Cased In Amber
by T.M.K.06
Summary: SPOILERS FOR S4 ESPECIALLY THE FINALE. Aftermath of Wilson's Heart: how they go on from there. House-Wilson friendship. Updates about once a week.Minor character xover from Bones. Possible spoilers for S5,too.
1. Chapter 1

**Cased In Amber**

_This story starts a couple of days after Wilson's Heart and explores one possible way of how things might go from there on. Possible spoilers for all previous episodes and maybe some rumours of what is to come may make their way into this story, too. Updating may be slow due to time constraints, but I will try to write at least a chapter a week. Not expected to be very long._

**I will let you down, I will make you hurt….**

House was wearing a hospital gown. The moment he had properly regained his consciousness Cuddy had made sure he didn't have access to any other clothes. Surprisingly though, House had neither protested nor tried to discharge himself from the hospital. He had meekly stayed at the hospital and submitted to all the tests Cuddy had wanted to do. He didn't talk much, just enough to make it clear that he could and that there was no permanent brain damage. He did have some difficulties but no more than what could be expected as a result of exhaustion. He slept a lot, hardly ate anything and – this worried all who knew him – he took hardly any painkillers. Sure they wanted to believe that his close brush with death – once again – had made him more aware of his own mortality and that he therefore wanted to cut down on his Vicodin intake and other addictions, but Chase doubted that was the case. To him it looked more like House just forgot. Something - intuition, sixth sense, telepathy, whatever - something told him that right now the pain House felt most was not in his leg and therefore the chronic pain he had suffered all these years was secondary and of no importance. The pain House really felt did not respond to painkillers.

"The funeral is tomorrow," Chase finally spoke up as it seemed that House wasn't going to look away from the window and acknowledge his presence. "If you give me your key I could get you some clothes for it."

At first House didn't respond. Then he finally turned and leaned against the window frame: "Wilson will not want me there."

"You don't know that," Chase insisted.

"He knows where I am," House said. "This room is right on the route to his office from almost everywhere in the hospital. If he wanted me there he would have told me so."

"He isn't thinking clearly," Chase sighed. He knew better than to try and tell House that Wilson hadn't been in. Though he didn't see any patients, Wilson had spent most of his time in his office for the last couple of days. And House knew it.

"How clearly do you need to think to know Amber would be alive if not for me?" House asked.

"You did not kill her," Chase stated forcefully. "You didn't cause the accident, you didn't give her the medicine, you didn't even ask her to come and get you. It was an accident combined with some other unfortunate circumstances that killed her. You did everything you could to save her. You risked your life several times for her. You were close to death yourself!"

"Close doesn't count," House had no mercy. "Had I remembered her immediately, had I found her in time we could have pumped her stomach and we could have given her preventive medicine – we could even have got her an emergency kidney transplant before the poison destroyed her other organs. I did everything except find her in time."

"You had amnesia," Chase nearly shouted at House. "You had a cracked skull and concussion. You didn't do any of it deliberately. God, when I think how hard you tried to remember and we, the rest of us – Wilson included – told you to rest! To stop obsessing. If you want to blame someone then we are as much to blame for not finding Amber in time as you are. It was an accident."

"She wouldn't have been in the bus if not for me," House stated calmly. "All I had to do was accept her offer, let her take me home and none of this would have happened. She would still be living happily ever after with Wilson."

"Did you ask her to follow you?" Chase insisted.

"I left my cane in the bar," House pointed out. "She brought it to me."

"And she had to take the bus to do that?" Chase asked. "Most bus drivers would have let her just bring the cane to you and then leave the bus. Wouldn't have taken more time than for… say an elderly person to climb on and find a seat."

"Are you saying it's her fault?" House demanded.

"No," Chase denied. "Of course not. I'm saying that people chose to behave normally and an accident happened and nobody is to blame. Nobody."

"Do you think that if you repeat it often enough it will become the truth?" House scorned.

"She died because of the flu medicine!" Chase insisted. "You had nothing to do with that. It was just a coincidence. Unfortunate, but nothing to do with you!"

"You think?" House queried. "Do you know why she was taking the pills?"

"She didn't want to get sick," Chase was puzzled. "Who would?"

"She didn't want to get sick because she couldn't afford any more sick days or personal leave," House explained. "She had used all up when she was trying for the fellowship. That would not have been the case had I hired her. In fact, had I hired her Wilson would have had no reason to start dating her and none of this would have happened at all. She would still be alive."

"You once said that in order to think everything is your fault you need to think you are all powerful," Chase sniped at House. "Are you finally admitting that you think you're god?"

"It's not god who limps," House sneered. "And this is not about everything being my fault; this is acknowledging that I am at fault. This is about right and wrong."

"Then why are you the one who did wrong?" Chase wanted to know. "Why isn't Amber equally responsible?"

"Because Amber was being responsible," House sighed. "She wanted to make sure that her boyfriend's drunk friend got home safely. I'm the one who got drunk and then didn't call for a cab but expected someone to come and get me."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Chase asked. "Yes, in this case the end result was devastating, but still just an accident. You had no way of knowing what was going to happen. What you did was no different from what hundreds of people have done and will do again."

"Just because you don't know what is going to happen, does not mean that you're not wrong," House sighed. "Right and wrong do exist, you know. Just because you don't see the future, don't know exactly what consequences your actions have – even if they have any, does not make things right. They may be ok, lots of things in life are just ok, but they are still not right. I got her out of her safe apartment into a bus when it wasn't necessary and she died because of it. That really is just the long and the short of it."

"Fine, so you're guilty of killing Amber," Chase scorned. "Did you kill and injure the rest of the people in that bus too? I mean had you not got on that bus it might have reached the accident site a few seconds sooner and the truck would have missed it and just hit a wall."

"Don't be facetious Chase," House told him tiredly. "I'm not claiming responsibility for everything. Just of being instrumental of putting Amber in harm's way."

Chase gave up with a sigh. He realised that there really was nothing he could say to make House feel any less guilty: "Fine, if that is how you see it, there really is nothing I can say. But you still shouldn't go out of your way to punish yourself. You shouldn't push away your friends."

"What friends?" House asked arching an eyebrow. "There was only Wilson. Yes, there are people that I'm friendly with, but friends… no, not that much. Which is probably a good thing considering that I seem to end up hurting them every time."

"Since when have you been into self-pity?" Chase asked.

"So I'm branching out," House shrugged.

"From what?" Chase frowned.

"Never mind," House shook his head. "Not important."

"Ok," Chase didn't think he would get an answer even if he tried to push. "Anyway, you might have more friends than you realise. Cuddy has hardly left your side. If she isn't with Wilson she is with you."

"Yeah, yeah," House sighed. "I know. I've tried to tell her that I'm not going to kill myself, but she still insists on keeping a suicide watch."

"That is not what she is doing," Chase stated almost angrily. "You are very dear to her; both you and Wilson. I wouldn't be surprised if she saw you two as her best friends."

"I'm sure you're right about Wilson," House agreed. "But there really is no reason for her to like me."

"You don't always like your friends," Chase reminded him. "But they are still friends."

"Maybe," House made a small concession. "But you can still tell her that had I not decided to live I wouldn't have come back."

"Back from where?" Chase wondered.

"From…" House paused before he said too much. "Back from coma."

"You can't decide something like that," Chase doubted.

"Ever been in coma?" House asked. Chase shook his head. "So how would you know what you can or can't decide when in coma?"

"Very well," Chase nodded. "You obviously know more about it. And there isn't much point in going on with this conversation since you just trump me every time. But I still need your key to get you your clothes."

"I'm not coming to the funeral," House said. "Wilson has enough…"

"I don't care," Chase nearly barked. "You are coming to that funeral if I have to hire a posse to take you there. You owe it to Amber to pay her your respects."

House stared at Chase for a moment with somewhat startled eyes, and then he nodded.

"So where is your key?" Chase repeated.

"Cuddy has it," House sighed. "You can ask it from her or you can just go and get my clothes. I mean, since when have you needed a key to get into somebody's flat?"

"Fine, I'll just tell the cops that you gave me permission if they arrest be for breaking and entering," Chase smiled.

"I promise to confirm your story if it comes to that," House replied with maybe the tiniest glimmer of a smile of his own.

"I am so reassured," Chase muttered as he walked out of House's room.

Chase made his way into Cuddy's office where Cuddy was doing some necessary paperwork.

"House says you have his key," Chase opened as he walked in.

"Yes," Cuddy nodded. "I wanted to make it as difficult as possible for him to just leave the hospital."

"He hasn't even tried," Chase pointed out.

"I know," Cuddy replied clearly worried.

"He assured me that he isn't suicidal," Chase ventured.

"Maybe not," Cuddy agreed. "But I'm not sure he is really alive either."

"He said that he chose to live," Chase revealed. "That he fought back from coma because he had decided to live. He may be subdued right now, but I think we can trust him. He isn't going anywhere."

"Are you sure?" Cuddy wanted convincing.

"Yes," Chase stated – though he did lie a little. "Recovery will take time, though. But he is coming to the funeral tomorrow so I need to get him suitable clothes."

"He is?" Cuddy was surprised. "I… He told me he didn't want to."

"And I told him that he owed it to Amber," Chase shrugged. "He agreed with me."

"I see," Cuddy frowned a little because she really didn't, but she decided to ponder on that later. She reached into a drawer and took out the key. "Here. You can give it back to him when you take him the clothes. I really cannot think of any valid reason to keep him here after the funeral. Not if you're sure he isn't suicidal."

"I'm sure," Chase stated.

"Ok," Cuddy accepted. "I'll talk with Wilson later and update him on House and all that…"

"Good," Chase nodded. "Cameron's going to be with him tomorrow morning before the funeral. During it and after Foreman and I will try to be around too."

"Good," Cuddy said in her turn. "There are plenty of people who want to keep an eye on him. I'll keep an eye on House, too, and his new team can help. From a distance, though. Don't want to irritate House unduly."

"It might actually do him some good," Chase remarked as he took the key and left Cuddy's office.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you for the reviews! I appreciate them. And here is the next chapter )_

**Somewhere in space, I hang suspended**

Cuddy was feeling a little apprehensive as she walked towards Wilson's office. James had come to the hospital every day since Amber's death. Yes, it had been only a few days but he was more escaping the empty apartment than anything else. He didn't see any patients though he did do a few urgent consults. Mostly he sat in his office, in the dark when he wasn't making phone calls for the funeral. Cameron had helped him to arrange the service and she and Cuddy had done their best to make sure Wilson ate and showered and changed his clothes and slept – even with the help of sedatives. But there really was nothing anyone could do to make his loss any easier to bear. Not yet at least. Cuddy was sure that Wilson wasn't suffering only because of Amber but also because of House, though she was not completely sure if it was because he blamed House for the accident or for not having been able to save Amber or because he felt guilty for having asked House to risk his life for nothing – as it had turned out. But no matter what was going on in his head regarding House, Cuddy's heart ached for both men.

As Cuddy had expected, Wilson was sitting in his office alone in the dark. She had knocked on the door and had received a sort of inviting grunt but other than that Wilson wasn't really reacting. He looked pretty much dead on his feet (except he was sitting down but that was just a technicality).

"Are you… well, how are you doing now?" Cuddy asked.

"I'm quite ok," Wilson sighed. "Really. You two can stop worrying about me."

For a moment Cuddy was confused: "Two?"

"Cameron left barely five minutes ago," Wilson explained.

"Oh," Cuddy sort of gulped. "For a moment there I thought you were channelling House!" Cuddy made a vague gesture near her bosom. "Besides Cameron has been in the ER for the last hour."

"Oh," Wilson shook his head like he was trying to clear it. "Oh. So… How is House?"

"Fine. Physically," Cuddy nodded. "I'm releasing him tomorrow. He passed all the tests. He still needs to rest but other than that he's fine. Chase talked with him too and says that he is ok enough mentally as well. He is coming to the funeral tomorrow."

"Ok," Wilson replied listlessly. "Good that… It's good that he wasn't injured worse. Just…"

"Just what?" Cuddy prompted.

"I can't deal with him yet," Wilson looked distressed.

"He is your friend," Cuddy frowned. "He doesn't expect you to _deal_ with him. I know he isn't really the first person anyone would turn to for comfort but he really isn't quite as insensitive as you'd think."

"I don't want him…" Wilson struggled with words. "I can't… He…. I can't deal with him blaming Amber yet."

"Blaming Amber for what?" Cuddy was mystified.

"For her own death," Wilson replied.

"He doesn't!" Cuddy exclaimed. "He wouldn't."

"Has he said so to you?" Wilson asked with something slightly resembling eagerness in his voice.

"Not directly," Cuddy had to admit. "He just hasn't said anything to make me think that he blames Amber. Besides that would be insane anyway. It was an accident."

"Has he said anything at all?" Wilson asked pointedly. "I mean has he talked at all about anything? About Amber or the accident?"

"Well, no. Not to me," Cuddy mumbled. "But he would have said something if he was blaming Amber. He isn't exactly reticent, you know."

"I know," Wilson agreed. "He said it to me. He said that it wasn't the flu it was what Amber took for it."

"When did he say that?" Cuddy was nearly floored. House couldn't possibly have been that cruel.

"When he was remembering it," Wilson swallowed. "When Chase was probing his brain."

"But that was diagnosis," Cuddy realised. "He wasn't assigning blame! Just finding out the cause. He can't blame Amber for treating her flu."

"Sure he can," Wilson stated a little mulishly. "You know how he is. And I don't have the strength to argue with him now. I don't want to go thirty rounds with him explaining how Amber was just unwilling to get sick and treating herself with legitimate medicine. She couldn't have known that she would be in an accident! And, yes, it was her choice to get on that bus but she was just being nice and decent human being. She was just doing me a favour by taking care of my friend. She… If… She should have called me. House… I always go when he calls. That's why he always calls. Amber is not at fault just because she… She shouldn't… It wasn't her fault!" He broke in tears.

"Shhh…" Cuddy went quickly to Wilson and took him in her arms. There was so little she could do to comfort him, but she did what she could. "Nobody blames Amber. Not even House. I promise you. But if you feel too raw to be near him – and God knows he is an abrasive man – I'll have a word with him. You don't have to talk with him tomorrow."

"Thanks," Wilson breathed. "I don't want to lose him too, but… Right now… I…"

"I understand," Cuddy soothed him – though to her the situation seemed way too complicated for real understanding, but if this was what Wilson wanted right now she would see to it. "You won't lose him. He really is your friend and he wants what is best for you. And if what is best for you right now is to keep some distance between you two he will be ok with it. I promise."

"He might not forgive me," Wilson muttered.

"For what?" Cuddy queried. "For taking care of yourself the best you can under the circumstances? He knows that he is pretty useless at situations like this. And I don't think there is anything he couldn't forgive you. You two have been through too much and known each other for too long for that. If you need time, he will give it to you."

"I need time," Wilson didn't sound like Cuddy had convinced him of anything, but he was calming down. "Just tell him…. Just tell him that I need time."

"I'm sure he understands that even without me telling him, but I will talk with him," Cuddy promised. "I will talk with him."

"Thanks," Wilson gave her a watery smile.

"Hey, what are friends for," Cuddy smiled back. "But in return you have to tell me how you really are. I haven't wanted to press, but… It's almost like you're still in shock."

"I think I am," Wilson sighed. "Everything is numb. Most of the time. Everything is muted and though I can do things that need to be done, like order flowers, notify people all that – though Cameron has been great help – I can't seem to be able to organise myself. I lose chunks of time just sitting around and having no idea how much time has passed. I do things, but if it is important I need to write it down or I forget all about it and do it again. Fortunately morticians are used to that kind of behaviour so nobody's calling for the men in white coats for me. I feel like one of those insects you sometimes see trapped inside amber beads, cased in amber forever seeing the world through semi-transparent petrified resin."

"Those insects aren't alive," Cuddy reminded him cautiously, more to just say something than actually trying to make a point.

"I'm not sure I am either," Wilson replied. "I certainly feel dead. And I think I prefer that to those times when I do feel."

"James…" Cuddy ached for him, for the pain in his voice.

"Wilson!" Wilson corrected her. "Wilson. She called me James. That is, she called me James when… She called me…"

"Wilson," Cuddy replied quickly, before Wilson lost it again. "You don't have to do anything you don't feel ready for, but I have offered to get you a grief councillor before. Are you sure…?"

"Not yet," Wilson shook his head. "I need to… There is her funeral first. I can't fall apart before that and if I start dealing… If I try to… If I return to the land of the living – now wasn't that a cliché – I can't go on. I need to think of her first now. I'll think of myself later."

"Ok," Cuddy nodded. "But I will keep an eye on you and if you give me reason to worry I will take action like it or not. I'm ok with you seeing to Amber for now but if, in time, you don't start taking care of yourself too, I will make you."

"I worry about that after…" Wilson sighed.

"Is that why you don't want to talk with House?" Cuddy realised suddenly. "Because you think he would try to drag you back to life again?"

"You know House," Wilson shrugged. "He is larger than life himself. He wouldn't have to do or say anything specific, he'd just be there. Besides you know he is all for harsh reality. Facing the facts, dealing…"

"Dealing?" Cuddy scoffed a little. "I rather think House is the king of NOT-dealing."

"I don't know," Wilson frowned. "I sometimes think that when he is alone… It's just that he is so private. But anyway, when it comes to life and death he does deal and does expect others do deal too. He doesn't care how people take his news he just lines up the facts, the reasons why someone is dying or died and he leaves them to deal with it. When he loses a patient he just goes home, takes a drink and comes back next day like nothing was different."

"Amber wasn't a patient," Cuddy didn't quite agree with Wilson's assessment of House, but now was not the time to start nitpicking. "Whatever losing a patient does to him, this was and is different. He wouldn't dream of just shrugging this off. Even if he didn't have much of a personal relationship with Amber, she was important to you. And therefore important to him too."

"Are you sure?" Wilson asked tiredly. "What has he said to suggest that Amber wasn't just another patient to him? Are you sure he cares?"

"He hasn't said anything to me, true," Cuddy admitted. "But I'm still sure he cares, both about Amber and you. I do know him and I am sure."

"I hope you're right," Wilson replied quietly. "She deserves it. But I… I still need time."

"And I already promised that I will tell him that," Cuddy assured Wilson. "I'm not trying to talk you into meeting him now. I just think that you need not fear it as much as you seem to do. But you do what you have to. I'll talk to him."

"Thanks," Wilson seemed to sink back into listlessness. "I seem to remember that I was supposed to make a phone call about the flowers…"

"Ok, I'm going," Cuddy didn't believe Wilson even for a second, but he seemed to need time alone again. "I'll be back in an hour with something for you to eat."

"I…" Wilson started to protest.

"I know," Cuddy soothed him. "You are not hungry, but you still need the fuel. I'll make sure it's something easy and will just keep you going for now. It wouldn't do for you to collapse during the funeral!"

"I suppose," Wilson capitulated. "Thanks."

"Sure," Cuddy accepted as she gently touched Wilson's shoulder and then left the room.

Cuddy decided there was no time like present to talk to House, too. She wanted to check on him anyway though Chase's evaluation of House's mental state had reassured her a little. She just wanted to see for herself, too. Not that she didn't trust Chase, the young Australian was a lot more perceptive than he often appeared to be. It had taken Cuddy some time to realise that it wasn't his ability to bend to House's wishes that had made House hire him but Chase really did have a knack for diagnosing and putting subtle clues together. Besides he had grown a very nice – though sometimes inconvenient – backbone during his last year with House.

Cuddy found House sitting on his bed with a tray of food in front of him. Chips, which meant that his team has got him the food from the cafeteria. The healthy hospital food was on a table further away from him. Cuddy almost decided to give him a lecture, but since he wasn't eating the chips either – and it was quite possible that his team (or actually Kutner or Hadley) had got him the food of their own bat – she chose not to.

"You're not eating," Cuddy observed neutrally leaving out any comments about what he wasn't eating.

"I'm lying in bed all day," House pointed out. "Not exactly the best way to work up an appetite."

"Well, I suppose you won't starve right yet," Cuddy conceded. "But you really need to eat something. Your body has been through a lot."

"Your nutritionist was here this morning and she gave some kind of nutritional shake and told me to add it to my diet," House sighed. "It's suppose to give me vitamins and minerals and what not. I drank it. I'm not sure I will drink it again because it was vile, but I should be ok for today."

"Oh good," Cuddy had been surprised that the nutritionist hadn't stormed into her office to complain about House and had meant to find her and ask about it, but apparently things had gone smoothly enough. "But you're really supposed to drink one every day to make sure you have what your body needs."

"It's vegan," House pronounced with utter contempt and for a moment Cuddy felt like everything was back to normal.

"It has to be," Cuddy pointed out. "We can't make different drink for every patient. There are very few people who can't drink something that is completely vegan."

"Only those who are allergic to soy," House reminded her. "Or have taste buds."

"But you're not allergic to soy and it's good for you," Cuddy insisted.

"Well, I suppose it's academic," House shrugged pushing his tray away. "Chase said that you might spring me tomorrow?"

"Yes," Cuddy nodded. "Foreman will give you a final check up tomorrow morning and that's it then. You aren't expected to come back to work for a week after that, but I want you to call me if any symptoms appear suddenly. Right…. Chase says that you are coming to the funeral."

"Yeah," House confirmed briefly.

"I told Wilson that you were coming," Cuddy said. She saw House tense immediately. He turned to look out of the window.

"And?" House prompted.

"He feels rather raw with grief right now," Cuddy tried to be diplomatic.

"He doesn't want me there," House stated flatly.

"Oh, no, no, that isn't what he said!" Cuddy was surprised that House would leap to that conclusion. "He didn't object to your coming at all. No, that wasn't it. He… Well you know that you're not very good at comforting people, don't you?"

House didn't give Cuddy any verbal answer. He just gave a one of his looks.

"Yeah, of course you know," Cuddy sighed. "Wilson said that he can't talk with you yet. He can barely keep it together and with everything… I told him that you'll be ok with it. You're his friend and you want him to do what is best for him. And right now he needs time. He doesn't mean to shut you out, but he needs time."

"Time," House repeated. "The cure all of everything. Only it isn't, is it. Time didn't save Amber and it will not bring her back. Yeah, I understand that he doesn't want to meet me."

Cuddy frowned at the defeated tone of House's voice, but she didn't know what to make of it and how to find out what he was thinking. He was shutting her out. "Ok, I'll let him know that you won't hold it against him. He did worry."

"I bet," House replied very mildly – earning another frown from Cuddy.

"Right," Cuddy bit her lip in confusion. "Chase got your key and he will bring you your clothes for tomorrow. If there is anything else you need before you get home, let me know."

"I will," House nodded. "I'm tired now…"

"Right, I'm out of here," Cuddy accepted her dismissal and she left House's room. But she decided to have another word with Chase because something was going on here that she had missed. And not much got past Chase, not when he was paying attention.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for your reviews, I appreciate them! And here's the next chapter )_

**For the class that you showed, Make it one for my ****baby, And one more for the road.**

Chase brought the clothes to House the same evening. He had them in a bag with some other essentials plus jeans and a T-shirt in case House wanted to change after the funereal and before going home. He found House in bed, partly under the covers but for some reason he got the impression that House had hastily dived under them when he heard him approach. He took a closer look as he put the bag down on the chair next to House's bed.

"I brought your clothes," Chase said trying to figure out what was wrong with the picture in front of him. Suddenly he realised: "Why are you wearing scrubs?"

"Got tired of the gown," House shrugged. "Pants are more masculine, you know."

"Does it matter when you're in bed?" Chase asked mildly. He was sure House was up to something.

"Well, I thought I might go for a short shuffle in the corridors," House admitted uncaringly. "I hear some of the night nurses are real lookers."

"Yeah, like the one they call Attila the Hun?" Chase mused.

"If you like the type," House wasn't deterred.

"Only you don't," Chase pointed out. "You're up to something. You're not trying to do a runner are you? Not when you can get out of here tomorrow quite legitimately."

"Would I do that!" House exclaimed with indignation. Unfortunately his show was interrupted by Kutner who rushed into his room right then.

"He's gone," Kutner blurted out before he realised that House was not alone.

"Who is gone?" Chase wanted to know.

"Taub," House said without missing a beat. "I'm suspecting that he is cheating on his wife again so I'm monitoring his comings and goings."

"No you're not," Chase stated. "You're up to something else and I'm not leaving until I know what."

House gave him a searching stare and came to the conclusion that he meant it. "Fine, I'll come clean. Wilson. I sent Kutner to make sure that Wilson is gone before I go and… Well, before."

Chase frowned in confusion for a second but then the penny dropped: "Amber is lying in state in the memorial room! You didn't go near her this afternoon because chances were you would have found Wilson there, so you waited till Cuddy and Cameron forced Wilson to leave and go home to sleep. She is going to be there till tomorrow morning and you're going now, when you can do it without Wilson, or almost anyone else either, knowing about your visit."

"Yeah," House admitted as he got out of the bed, put his sneakers on (those Cuddy had let him keep) and got his cane. "Now thanks for the clothes but isn't Cameron waiting for you or something?"

"She is still busy with Wilson and you will probably need more than one person to help you if you want to make it to Amber unnoticed," Chase informed him.

"I wasn't planning on travelling with an entourage," House muttered acidly.

"Plans change," Chase shrugged. "And since I no longer work for you, you'll just have to lump it."

House gave in ungracefully but also without a protest so soon Chase found himself leading the way towards the hospital Chapel and the Memorial room near it. He felt sheepish, but he did understand House's point. House was a private man and someone else than Wilson seeing him do something like this was just not on. And right now, given the uncertain situation between House and Wilson, even Wilson wasn't really an option. Of course he and Kutner were in on this, but Chase wasn't sure if it was an honour because House trusted them or an insult because they didn't matter at all. Whatever the case they did make it to the memorial room undetected.

Chase and Kutner remained at the door when House slowly limped to Amber's casket. They watched him stand there looking at her and then place something on Amber's eye.

"What was that?" Kutner whispered puzzled.

"I don't… Oh wait! The coin," Chase suddenly made the connection. "It's to pay the ferryman."

"What are you talking about?" Kutner asked with his usual interest.

"Greek tradition," Chase explained quietly. "You give the deceased a coin so that she or he can pay the ferryman who will take her across the river Styx to the land of the dead."

"Superstition?" Kutner asked.

"Classical tradition," Chase replied. "I'm not even sure it's the practise these days, but it is nice gesture towards Amber's Greek roots."

"House isn't exactly famous for nice gestures," Kutner frowned. "Amber must have been special. I don't think House is the kind of person who would start liking someone just because they're dead or dying."

"No, he isn't," Chase confirmed. "But he couldn't save her and Wilson loves her. Those things alone are enough to make her special for him. Ok, shush now, he is coming."

Chase watched House seemed to rouse himself from whatever thoughts had occupied him at Amber's casket. He was surprised to see House salute Amber before he turned away. Chase had seen that salute before a few times and it was usually edged with mockery or flippancy, but this time it was clearly meant for real. He didn't have time to ponder further on it as House limped to him and Kutner.

"Ok, you two," House glared at them. "You can leave now."

"Leave?" Kutner was startled. "Don't you need help to get undetected back to your room?"

"If you want to help me with that," House shrugged. "You can come back early tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?" Chase exclaimed. "Are you planning on staying the night here? Why?"

"Somebody should," House wasn't going to explain more, he just limped towards the chairs and picked one to sit on.

Chase and Kutner exchanged questioning glances and then they followed House and sat near him – though not on the seats next to him. Kutner seemed to be searching something from his memory and then he asked: "You're sitting Shiva?"

"I'm not close family," House dismissed the suggestion. "Besides you sit Shiva after the funeral."

"So what are you doing?" Chase prompted.

"You're not going away are you?" House concluded. Both Chase and Kutner nodded. "Right. This is Shmira. In Judaic tradition the body is supposed to be buried within twenty four hours of death, before next sunset if at all possible. When the body awaits the burial it is guarded, originally against rodents and insects, but that is rarely the case anymore. The other purpose is to give comfort to the soul that is believed to remain in close proximity of the body until the burial. There are rather strict rules about Shmira, but since Amber was Greek Orthodox I don't think those are necessary. Besides reciting psalms in Hebrew would probably just cause more confusion to her soul anyway, even if it was hovering around."

"If this isn't part of her religion, then why?" Kutner wanted to know.

"For Wilson," Chase stated. "Because later it will bring him comfort to know that she wasn't alone."

"And because I owe her," House said quietly. "Like I owed her the fare." House nodded towards the silver coin he had placed in the coffin.

"But you're an atheist!" Kutner couldn't let go before he understood what was going on. "You don't believe in any of this stuff. Don't you see all of this just, you know, futile and pointless?"

"Just because some gestures are futile," House was demonstrating unheard of patience. "Does not mean they are also insignificant. Sometimes you have nothing but futile gestures left."

"Ok, so we're staying here all night?" Chase checked as he set his own bag on the floor. Something inside it made a hard sound hitting the floor and getting House's attention.

"I am staying here, you can go any time," House answered. "But before you go, tell me what you have in your bag. It sounded like a bottle or something."

"You would notice," Chase rolled his eyes as he dug a bottle of Ouzo out of his bag. "A patient gave this to me a few weeks ago as a thank you gift. It's supposed to be the best brand there is. I'm not really that fond of Ouzo, so I didn't take it home. Today, however, I thought I might like to drink a toast to Amber after the funeral. Yeah, a futile gesture, but…"

"Yeah, but," House agreed. "Right Kutner, go rustle up some glasses or something."

"We're going to drink it now?" Kutner asked as he got up and quickly made his way to the water cooler in the corner. He came back with three plastic cups.

"I need to do something to make your company bearable," House pointed out.

"So is this Shmira something like an Irish wake then?" Kutner was still full of questions.

"No," House replied pouring Ouzo into the cups. "In fact it is extremely bad manners to eat and drink in the presence of someone who can no longer enjoy such earthly pleasures herself. But since she isn't a Jew, I don't think she would mind. Besides, if she is hovering around lost and confused as assumed, then surely it's the familiar things that bring her comfort, if anything does."

"And there are few things more familiar than you being a jerk," Chase finished for House.

"Precisely!" House confirmed taking a drink and grimacing at the strong taste – as did both Chase and Kutner too.

"So if we are not really following the Jewish customs here, is drinking ok in her religion?" Kutner wanted to know.

"I seriously doubt this is kosher in Greek Orthodoxy either," Chase remarked. "It sure isn't for Catholics – except maybe for the Irish."

"No, it isn't," House stated. "But given that I'm an atheist, Chase here is a retired altar boy, you are a Klingon and we are guarding the body of a Greek Orthodox for her Jewish man, I suppose we can wing it pretty much any way that feels right."

"And drinking feels right?" Chase's tone carried a teeny bit of mockery in it.

"Always," House pronounced. "Besides Ouzo is a particularly suitable drink for Amber: strong, obnoxious and goes straight to your head. A lot like the lady herself."

"And it also grows on you," Kutner agreed.

"You like Ouzo?" Chase was amazed.

"Not yet," Kutner denied. "But the third sip is not nearly as bad as the first, so I expect before morning I will."

"Yeah, a lot like the lady herself!" House approved as he refilled the cups. "You might not appreciate her at first meeting but she was a class act."

They all lifted their cups in a toast to Amber and took a sip. Right then Chase's phone started to vibrate and he quickly went outside to answer it. He came back almost immediately: "Cameron," he announced concisely. "She just called to say she isn't coming home tonight, she is staying with Wilson. The only way they got him to agree to take a sedative was to promise to be there to make sure that he doesn't oversleep."

"They?" House asked. "Is Cuddy staying there too?"

"She is there but Cameron wasn't sure she was going to stay," Chase nodded. "Anyway, I told Cameron that I was detained here and would probably need to stay all night so it was ok. She promised to bring me my clothes in the morning since she has to go and change her own anyway."

"So you're set," House concluded. "Which means that Kutner here can go home."

"Not going," Kutner stated. "Amber was a friend. I'm staying. Besides, I have my clothes with me. I picked up my laundry during my lunch hour."

"So I really am stuck with you two?" House acknowledged ruefully.

"Yes," Chase confirmed and Kutner nodded in the affirmative too.

Next morning Cuddy arrived at the hospital early. She had stayed with Cameron and Wilson quite late but had finally gone home. However, she hadn't been able to sleep much, so she got up early, took her clothes with her and came to the hospital. She dropped her things in her office and decided to go and see if House was awake. As she walked to the lifts one of them opened and Chase and Kutner came out. They looked rough.

"Doctor Chase? Doctor Kutner?" Cuddy said slowly. "What… Have you… You look like you've been sleeping in your clothes."

Chase and Kutner exchanged wary glances, then Chase said: "Well, not exactly. But we did stay in the hospital all night. Things to do and all."

"Oh," Cuddy wasn't any the wiser. "Well, it's good that I ran into you, Doctor Chase, since I need to have a word with you before the funeral. If you have time?"

"Well, I need a gallon of coffee, some food a shower and change," Chase itemised. "But that shouldn't take all morning. Only I have to wait for Cameron to bring my clothes."

"I would really like…" Cuddy stopped talking suddenly. She frowned, sniffed the air near the men and then she gave them her deathliest glare: "Have you been drinking? In hospital!"

"Well I wouldn't say drinking," Kutner muttered bashfully.

"No, not really," Chase agreed. "Just, how would I put this, sort of…" he stopped talking as Cuddy leaned closer to take a good sniff.

"Ouzo," Cuddy declared. "You have been drinking Ouzo! You do know there is a funeral…" Cuddy's voice died down and she looked from Chase to Kutner and back again clearly thinking about something. "You sat with Amber." She stated without even slightest hesitation in her voice. "You spent the night watching over Amber. For Wilson. I didn't even realise that you knew about Shmira!"

"We didn't," Kutner started but Chase quickly frowned him to quiet.

"Is that what it's called?" Chase asked innocently. "We knew that sitting with the body is a Jewish custom, so we figured Wilson might like someone to do it, even if Amber wasn't Jewish herself."

"This was… It was incredibly kind of you to do this," Cuddy actually had tears in her eyes. "Doctor Wilson will truly appreciate what you did. He wanted to do it himself, but he was near to collapsing so Doctor Cameron and I thought it best to make him go home for the night. I told him that with the hospital full of people somebody would keep an eye on her. I'm glad I was right. You did good."

"Well, she was a friend," Kutner muttered feeling like a fraud. Not that he wouldn't have done it anyway, had he known about the custom but still, to take credit for it and not even mention House, it didn't feel right. But Chase kept giving him warning glances so he kept silent.

"So, Doctor Chase," Cuddy cleared his throat. "If you have time to come and see me before the funeral I'd really appreciate it."

"I'll try," Chase promised as Cuddy stepped into the lift and left them.

"Why didn't you let me tell her that it was House's idea and that House was the one who actually did it, not us," Kutner asked.

"Did you really want to see what Doctor Cuddy would have done and said had we told her that we spent the night drinking with a man who is only just recovering from a serious head injury?" Chase wanted to know.

"Oh, yeah, that," Kutner suddenly realised

"Yeah, that," Chase nodded. "Besides, I'm not sure House wants anyone to know about last night so I think it is best we leave it to him to tell or not. Unless, of course, Doctor Wilson wants to know. It would be ok to tell him."


	4. Chapter 4

_Thankyou again for taking the time to review!_

**The way you changed my life, No they cant take that away from me**

Cameron woke to the smell of coffee. The couch had been comfortable enough, but she was worried about Wilson and it had taken her a while to fall asleep after Cuddy had left. She had her phone set to wake her up, but apparently the alarm wasn't needed. She pushed the blanket away and walked into the kitchen. He found Wilson sitting at the table staring sightlessly at a mug of coffee. It was cold already.

"Looks like you didn't actually need to worry about waking up - sedatives or no sedatives," Cameron observed. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"Don't know," Wilson sighed. "I know I was wake quarter past three but I didn't come here then. I'm not sure."

"Well it's half past six now," Cameron sighed. "How are you feeling? And I mean medically speaking, is the sedative having any adverse effect on you?"

"Not that I notice," Wilson shrugged. "But then, I'm pretty numb anyway."

"Yeah, I know," Cameron nodded.

"Yeah, you do," Wilson agreed. "So how long does it take?"

"Can't really say," Cameron pondered. "I think I was sort of spaced out for almost a year, but then the dying took longer and really beat the stuffing out of me. I do remember having had some periods that were clearer. Usually when I lost my temper with someone."

"You lost your temper?" Wilson wondered. "The woman who first started with House wasn't really capable of saying boo to a mouse if I remember correctly."

"Well, maybe irritation is a better description of what I felt," Cameron admitted. "But what really made me angry was people telling me – even as early as at the funeral – that I was young and I would find someone else. How the Hell was that supposed to comfort me then and there? How the Hell was someone else in the future going to make the loss of my husband any easier? He wasn't disposable! He was unique human being and I loved HIM! Not some abstract concept of a husband but him, the man I had married."

"I wish I had married Amber," Wilson muttered.

"Would that have made any difference?" Cameron asked. "Besides, and I say this as a friend, would Amber really have wanted to be Mrs Wilson number four?"

"No, I don't think she would," Wilson smiled ruefully. "She was always trying to make sure I knew she was not one of my wives and would not let me treat her as I had treated them."

"But you were very loving and caring with your wives," Cameron frowned.

"Yeah, until I started resenting being the one who loved and cared," Wilson sighed. "I hadn't even realised the pattern of my marriages, not even with House pointing it out for me several times, but Amber saw it immediately. She refused to let me take care of her, in fact she told me point blank that she could take care of herself and I need to take care of me if we want to have a relationship. She was the first person ever who wasn't going to let me be anything but me."

"Sounds like she was really good for you," Cameron said.

"She was," Wilson wiped his hand across his eyes. "Too good to be true."

"No, don't think that," Cameron hugged Wilson. "Don't think you didn't deserve her or the happiness you did have. Losing her was not a punishment or sign of anything other than, - well, life kicking you in the teeth for no reason. Accidents do happen and this time you and Amber got caught in one. You didn't deserve it, you didn't bring it on yourselves, it just happened."

"Rationally I know that," Wilson rested his head against Cameron. "But I have a hard time to get my emotions to agree."

"I know," Cameron agreed. "My husband was dying when we married, but I still expected to be able to extend his life, the pain-free part of it I mean, by just loving him. And then, when the cancer took its normal course, I felt guilty for not having loved him enough to stop the pain, to make it all happen more like it happens on TV where cancer victims die in their sleep in the arms of the significant other. Rationally I knew cancer was cancer and my feelings couldn't possibly have any effect on it, but my heart would not listen."

"Because you had fallen in love with his best friend?" Wilson remembered as he let go of Cameron and looked up at her.

"Yeah," Cameron nodded and stepped away to lean on the kitchen counter. "I hadn't stopped loving him; I just loved his best friend, too. Now, in retrospect I can see that my love for both of them was immature and idealistic and partly because I was in a bad situation. And that I had chosen to be in that situation made no difference. Nevertheless it was still true love I felt for both of them."

"You say that like someone has suggested to you that it wasn't true love?" Wilson frowned. "Can I make a guess?"

"You mean House?" Cameron suggested. "He did say that my love had certain motivations, but I wasn't actually meaning him, because his opinion came so much later. No, it was even during my marriage that people doubted my love. They suggested that it was _kind_ of me to marry him, to stay with him in his illness. Afterwards even my parents said that I could now go on with my life and _find happiness_. Yeah, I knew my life wasn't over, we had actually talked about it and he had insisted that when he is gone I will go on with my life and try to fulfil all my dreams, including the two point four children and a house in the suburbs. But so what? Did that mean I was supposed to shrug him off like yesterday's news? Because it lasted only six months was I any less his wife? Was I any less a widow? Was I any less devastated with grief?"

"When I went to see Amber's priest to talk about the funeral, he suggested that I might want to leave the arrangements to them entirely," Wilson told Cameron. "He said that they do that for members of their congregation who don't have any relatives or anyone else to do it for them. When I said that I had no intention of letting anyone else do it for me, though I definitely needed advice not being of their faith, he told me I was very kind. A good friend."

"Why is it so difficult for people to accept that time doesn't matter?" Cameron questioned. "Why is the feeling supposed to be less real or weaker or somehow more disposable when you haven't been together for that long?"

"I don't know," Wilson took a deep breath. "I may have been with Amber for about six months all in all, but she changed me. She gave me so much of herself and of myself. She forced me to really think what I want where I want to be and who I want to be with. She was open for compromise but she absolutely refused to sacrifice or let me do it either. I have never been that free to be myself as I was with her. Now I don't know what to do. I'm lost."

"I know," Cameron said. "You won't be lost forever, though. I promise you that. She wouldn't want you to be either."

"I'm sure she wouldn't," Wilson responded. "Only, I'm not so sure I can fulfil that wish."

"Give yourself some time," Cameron suggested. "You really don't need to snap out of it, though some people will suggest that! It's a process. One day you just don't hurt that much anymore. And though you will never forget her or the way she changed you, it will stop hurting. I do promise you that."

They sat in silence for a moment just sharing until Cameron remarked: "So the priest decided that you Amber had been just friends. I assume they're not very keen on acknowledging couples who just live together?"

"No, they're not," Wilson nodded. "He was very kind and helpful, though, once I referred to Amber as my fiancée."

"Surely you're not feeling guilty for having lied?" Cameron put her hands on her hips and glared at Wilson. "You allowed House to tell everyone at Princeton General that she was your wife because it was necessary. This was no different. Besides there are still some states that acknowledge common-law marriages, so maybe you were just disoriented with grief!"

"That's rationalization," Wilson pointed out, but Cameron was happy to see that he almost smiled again. "But you're right, why should I feel guilty about words. Especially since the difference is only in the literal meaning, not really in the sentiment."

"There," Cameron stated as she sat down. "You weren't exactly lying. Besides, had the priest known Amber well he should have known her situation anyway."

"Amber wasn't exactly an active member," Wilson shrugged. "I don't think she was ever a regular church goer. The last time she attended was on Easter, but she did say that that was the one time of the year she always did go."

"Really? Not Christmas?" Cameron asked.

"No," Wilson replied. "She said that Easter is the big celebration in Orthodoxy, not Christmas. So that was when she made sure she attended."

"That would explain why the priest didn't know much about her," Cameron agreed. "So you were able to work things out with him though you're Jewish yourself."

"Yeah, he was very helpful and compassionate," Wilson sighed. "They don't encourage cross-religion marriages and relationships but this day and age they still happen so he did have some precedents. But since I wanted the funeral to be according to her religion we didn't really have any problems. After that it was just a matter of arranging time and place and all that. And you know all about that since I really couldn't have done any of it without your help. You have been great. Thanks."

"No need to thank me," Cameron stated. "I wanted to help."

"Chase has been very patient with me, too," Wilson mused. "For monopolising your time. Was he really ok with you staying here last night?"

"Yes he was," Cameron promised. "He stayed in the hospital last night anyway, so it made no difference to him."

"I thought I saw him leave for the day some time yesterday?" Wilson frowned.

"He did, but he got some clothes for House and took them to him in the evening," Cameron explained. "They probably roped him in for duty then."

"Strange." Wilson was still puzzled. "I was under the impression that he had got rather good at saying no, now that he is no longer working for House."

"He has," Cameron agreed proudly. "But if it was Cuddy who did the asking I don't think he even wanted to say no to her right now. She has been a bit fragile lately with everything."

"Yeah," Wilson didn't say anything else.

"So do you want to walk through the day again?" Cameron changed the subject.

"No, I think we have it covered," Wilson sighed. "I want to be in the hospital when they come to get Amber, though."

"Ok." Cameron nodded. "If you get your suit we can drive to my place and I get my things and Chase's suit and we can go to the hospital and change there. That suits you?"

"Yes," Wilson said simply and got up to go and get his things.

_Cased in Amber_

Cameron had brought Chase his clothes quite early in the morning; in fact he had walked right into Cameron in the lobby right after he had talked with Cuddy near the lifts. They had separated then for a while so that each could shower and change before they met again in the cafeteria. Chase, Kutner and Wilson made there first.

"Cameron said that you spent the night here," Wilson remarked trying to be interested. "Got drafted did you?"

Chase and Kutner glanced at each other before Chase replied: "In a way we were, yes. Only not for hospital work."

"We? You too, Doctor Kutner?" Wilson realised.

"Yes," Kutner said. He decided to let Chase do the actual explaining.

"We were with House," Chase stated. "He… He didn't ask us, but we stayed anyway. We sat the night in the memorial room."

Wilson sort of froze for a moment. It was almost as if he wasn't even breathing and then he took a very deep breath: "You… you and House… you guarded Amber through the night?"

"Yes," Kutner confirmed.

"Why?" Wilson asked confused. "I mean… I thank you for doing it, it means a lot to me, but why would you?"

"House said it's a Jewish custom," Chase said. "And that you would have done it yourself if you could. You're a friend and though I didn't know Amber that well, I did know her and she was important to you."

"I'm not sure if she saw me as a friend," Kutner explained for his part. "But I liked her. I miss her."

"Thank you," Wilson accepted. "Did… No, House would not have explained his reasons to you. Or?"

"No, if you want to know why he did it or what he is thinking you have to speak with him," Chase stated. "And you really can't put it off for much longer. Whatever it is you need to say to each other, you do need to say it."

"Yeah, I suppose…" Wilson didn't sound too convinced.

Chase might have wanted to say more but right then Cameron arrived and they got their coffee and breakfast. Soon after Wilson went into the memorial room to be there when Amber's body was moved to the Church and Cameron went with him. Kutner went to see if House needed help with getting ready for the funeral – and to make sure House really did come to it and Chase went to see Cuddy as he had promised.

Cuddy had changed her clothes and was ready to leave but was clearly waiting for Chase.

"So what was it you wanted to talk about Doctor Cuddy?" Chase asked.

"I," Cuddy hesitated but then she checked the time and saw that there wasn't time to beat around the bush if they meant to get to the funeral. "I worry about House and Wilson. After all they went through with crash and Amber, not to mention that brain stimulation you did without my authorisation, I don't know where they are with each other. House is Wilson's best and oldest friend, he is the one Wilson has always turned to when he needs someone – though sometimes I have wondered why. But now, now he says that he can't deal with House that he needs time. Has House said anything to you? Have they spoken at all since House… since… you know."

"Wilson really doesn't want to talk with House?" Chase wanted to be clear.

"He asked me to tell House that he needs time," Cuddy explained.

"He can't have time forever, not if…" Chase hesitated a little. He didn't want to reveal too much. He still felt loyalty towards House though he wasn't working for him anymore. "I don't know how much silence their friendship can take under the circumstances. Too much was left unsaid when House seized."

"You think that…" Cuddy hesitated for a moment too, but decided that information was more important than privacy. Besides, Chase had never been a blabbermouth. "You think that House really blames Amber?"

"For what?" Chase was confused.

"Wilson is afraid that House blames Amber for having taken the flu pills and not having gone home when House told her to," Cuddy explained. "You know how House is when he thinks people have behaved stupidly."

"Yeah, I know," Chase replied slowly. "But no, he definitely does not blame Amber. Look, I don't feel comfortable talking about this because I would need to draw conclusions that I'm not quite happy to do with the information I have. But if Wilson needs time, I think we need to let him have it until after the funeral. But you should definitely talk with House. If they don't sort this out soon themselves you need to do something about it."

"I need to?" Cuddy wasn't sure she liked the idea of being the designated referee – or whatever it was House and Wilson needed.

"Yes," Chase confirmed. "You're the only one who knows both of them well enough. But we need to get going now if we mean to get to the funeral in time."

Cuddy checked her watch and realised that Chase was right: "Yes we do. I'm not happy with this conversation, but we do need to go. That does not mean that I won't demand better answers from you later on if I feel the need."

"If House won't tell you what is bothering him then I will tell you what I know, but it would be better if he told you himself," Chase agreed as he turned to leave Cuddy's office to get House and drive to Amber's funeral.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you again to all who took the time to review! _

**There's a shadow hanging over me**

House was watching the memorial reception from the sidelines. They were in a little restaurant near enough to the cemetery to be convenient. The Church ceremony had lasted a little over half an hour; then they had all gone to the cemetery where they had taken another half an hour for some prayer and then the flowers. Now they were all in here. There were quite a lot of people there, certainly more than would have come to his funeral House was sure. Amber was an only child and her parents had died a few years ago so there was no family but there were her friends, people she had worked with, Wilson's friends, their mutual friends and quite a few patients too had come to pay their respects. House had felt like he was suffocating so he had escaped to the little glass terrace a little to the side of the main action. He sat in an armchair, nursed a glass of Bourbon (he had the bottle hiding in the shadow of the chair) and watched the people having subdued conversations inside. He was feeling morose and not at all in the need of company when the priest wandered into his improvised lair.

"Doctor House," the priest greeted him amiably as he settled on one of the other armchairs with his wine glass. He was an older man, maybe in his sixties, and had a contented air about him, though under the circumstances he was naturally more solemn.

"Reverend," House responded – not very amiably.

"I know," the priest smiled. "You don't want any company. No worries, I'm not expecting conversation just a place to rest my old bones a little. Of course if you do want to talk, that is just fine with me, too."

"Ever studied any psychology?" House queried dryly.

"Even if I haven't I have been a priest for a long time," the priest smiled acknowledging House's hit.

"So why do you think I need to get something off my chest?" House asked.

"Apart from the fact that everyone always has something?" the priest responded.

"Yeah, apart from that general belief that we are all sinners and we sin all the time," House groused a bit.

"Apart from that, yes," the priest smiled. "And don't try to tell me you disagree with that view – even if you may use different terminology."

"No, I don't suppose I can say that," House acknowledged. "So what makes you think I have something specific?"

"A feeling," the priest shrugged. "As I said I have been a priest for a long time and one does develop a sense for these things. As I'm sure do doctors – though maybe more for physical ailments than burdens of the soul."

"I'm not too sure I have a soul," House scoffed. "And if my desire to step away from the crowd is what alerted you, I just got tired of the hypocrisy in there."

"Hypocrisy?" the priest repeated mildly.

"This time I wasn't referring to the religious hypocrisy, though I suspect there is enough of that there too," House stated. "No, it's the way they all talk about her."

"They say nice things about her," the priest reflected. "Isn't that normal?"

"Maybe," House accepted. "Just not true. See that skinny brunette there," House nodded towards Hadley standing within their line of vision.

"Yes," the priest nodded neutrally. "And she sure looks like she could use a few good meals."

"She'd just throw them up," House stated. Then he went on: "She hated Amber alive and she hates Amber even more dead."

"Why would she do that," the priest asked curiously.

"Because Amber is beautiful, young, female, a doctor and dead," House itemised.

"Ah," the priest nodded. "She sees her own mortality in Amber. Yes, that can bring about strong emotions, even anger. Especially if there are other related issues there?"

"Hmmm. …. And that short Jew over there," House nodded towards Taub. "He is standing there with his wife and talking about Amber like she was an esteemed colleague when in fact he didn't like Amber much but would have jumped her without hesitation wife or no wife had Amber not slapped him down with contempt every five minutes. And they all talk about Amber like she was half-saint or something."

"They say she was a dedicated doctor," the priest observed.

"They will say that about me, too," House scoffed. "Mind you she was a good and dedicated doctor but even so she wasn't sunshine and puppies and woolly lambs frolicking on sweet meadows."

"Then what was she?" Suddenly Wilson had found his way to the odd sight of House conversing with a priest – who wasn't looking offended and outraged. He had arrived just in time to hear House's last statement and wanted to know what House really thought about Amber – though he wasn't sure he would like it.

"Doctor Wilson," the priest greeted him quietly. "How are you holding up?"

"I didn't know you knew House, or did you just meet?" Wilson ignored the question.

"We met last night," the priest explained. "When I went to say the Trisagion at the hospital chapel. I naturally went to the memorial room too where I met Doctor House and his two companions."

"Chase didn't mention that," Wilson stated.

"Chase blabbed?" House frowned.

"There was no reason to keep it a secret, was there," Wilson asked.

"Why would you want to keep your vigil a secret?" the priest wanted to know.

"Yeah, well," House mumbled. "Sure it wasn't supposed to be a secret, really. But it's private."

"I'd like to know why," Wilson said. "If you didn't think she was any good why did you sit with her?"

"Who said I didn't think she was any good?" House demanded.

"Perhaps I shall go and get something to eat as well," the priest said as he stood up and walked away from the two men, who briefly nodded to him in goodbye.

"You said she wasn't sunshine and all that," Wilson reminded House.

"You know she wasn't," House stated. "She was ambitious, manipulative, knew what she wanted and how to get it. She didn't trust people especially she didn't trust them to give her anything. She knew that if she wanted something she had to get it herself, and she also knew that she was well capable of getting it. She wanted to be right and she didn't stop until she was."

"Didn't you see anything good in her?" Wilson sounded bitter.

"Those are good qualities," House pointed out. "In a doctor. And she was a good doctor. And she had a better bedside manner than I do."

"So if she was such a good doctor, why didn't you hire her?" Wilson wanted to know.

"What do I teach?" House countered.

"What do you mean?" Wilson frowned. "You teach medicine. You teach diagnosing."

"All doctors diagnose," House dismissed. "They observe, put their observations together and make their best guess. In ordinary cases that is all that is needed. I take only the un-ordinary cases. But even so it's still just observation and making your best guess. I don't teach diagnosing. I teach a way of thinking. I teach observation. I teach how to see the little things and how to fit them into the big picture so that you get the right diagnosis. I teach thinking outside the box. I teach not stopping until you're sure that you have the right answer. I teach tenacity. I teach that you cheat, lie, manipulate and do whatever it takes to get the answer your patient needs."

"She did all that," Wilson stated. "Why didn't you want her?"

"What was I supposed to teach her?" House asked. "More of the same? All she needed was experience and she didn't need me for that. There really was only one thing I could teach her in addition to what already came naturally to her and that was how to lose. And even that, my friend, she learned better than I ever have."

"My God," Wilson stared at House. "You actually admired her!"

"I respected her," House corrected. "I wasn't going to, but she wasn't going to settle for less. Besides, she was good for you."

"I… I…" Wilson stuttered. He had to sit down to digest this new information. "So you… She was sunshine to me."

"I'm sure she was a lot of frolicking for you, too," House suggested. "Only I don't think any woolly lambs made an appearance in her sweet meadows. I bet she showed you quite a few things you'd never tried before."

Wilson actually blushed: "Well, yes."

"I'm really, really sorry," House stated quietly. Wilson nodded and tried to stop the tears from flowing. He wasn't very successful. He held out his hand and House clasped it. For a moment they sat there in silence, Wilson holding House's hand like it was a life line – and perhaps right then it was. Finally Wilson got himself under control again.

"I think I better go and mingle," Wilson sighed. "Thanks, House."

House nodded. Wilson stood up and took a few steps towards the main room but House's voice stopped him momentarily: "You know, she once told me that all her life she had been choosing between love and respect and chosen respect. Until you, that is. With you she didn't have to choose. She had both."

Wilson stood still for a few heartbeats and then he just said: "Thank you." And walked on.

House remained sitting in his armchair for a few more minutes, but then he decided that it was time for him to go. He walked into the room and saw the priest standing nearby, fortunately in the right direction (i.e. in the direction of the exit).

"Father Petros," House said.

"Doctor House," the priest responded. "How… Are you and Doctor Wilson alright?"

"We talked," House shrugged. "I think it was ok. I just wanted to ask you to send me the information about the memorial service in forty days."

"You want to attend?" the priest was surprised. "I didn't think you were religious at all."

"I'm not," House admitted. "And I'm not sure I will attend. But I may need to see this to the end. Thank you Reverend." With that he left the restaurant.

Chase and Cameron saw him go. They went to Cuddy who was talking with some people near the drinks table.

"House just left," Chase told Cuddy.

"Oh, no," Cuddy sighed. "How is he going to get home?"

"Cab, I suspect," Cameron suggested. "I hope he isn't trying to go on a bus."

"Actually, I think I saw Kutner follow him," Foreman said from behind them.

"Oh good!" Cuddy sighed in relief. "He ought to get home ok then. Does anyone know if he and Wilson met?"

"Father Petros said that they did," Chase revealed. "But he left them alone so he couldn't say how it went. And, of course, he didn't know what it was all about anyway, just that they seemed to have some issues."

"Well that's about as much as we know," Foreman scoffed.

"I'm just not sure it's a good sign that House left right after they did," Cameron worried.

"You could ask Wilson how it went," Cuddy suggested. "We could get at least his side of it."

"Not here, though," Cameron decided. "I'll ask him when I drive him home. I just don't know how he is going to hold up now!"

"He does have time off, right?" Foreman checked.

"Yes," Cuddy nodded. "I don't know if he is going to sit Shiva, but he will definitely need at least a week before he can even hope to function normally. Cameron and I have already put in place a plan of checking on him daily."

"What about House?" Chase asked. "He surely has leave too for a while."

"Actually, I told him that if he wants he can come back to work after the week-end," Foreman stated.

"Surely he isn't fit yet!" Cuddy exclaimed.

"I'm sure he isn't," Foreman agreed. "But he has recovered amazingly well. And there wasn't that much damage to start with. Once he woke up, that is. Yes, he needs more rest, but he sleeps most of his time at work anyway, unless he has a patient. And quite frankly, I'd rather have him under my eye in the office than at home where I have no idea what he is going to do! At the hospital at least I have some control over what he drinks and what drugs he takes. Admittedly not much, but at least some."

"I could send a nurse and a security guard to his home again," Cuddy suggested.

"It didn't work that well the last time," Cameron reminded her.

"True," Cuddy agreed. "Foreman's plan is probably the best. Right, I'll go and see how Wilson is doing and I'll also try to check if Kutner really went home with House." At that they all dispersed.

Once the reception was over in a couple of hours Cameron and Chase drove Wilson home.

"Are you sure you want to stay here alone today?" Cameron asked Wilson as they reached the flat.

"Yes," Wilson stated. "It isn't any different today than it was yesterday or the day before. But if I change my mind I will call you."

"Promise," Cameron insisted. "We can put you up for a few nights on the couch."

"I'm fine," Wilson insisted. "But I promise I will call you."

"Ok, I suppose that will have to do," Cameron sighed. "Anything you need now?"

"Some privacy?" Wilson suggested almost with humour.

"We're going," Chase stated taking Cameron's hand and almost escorting her out.

"I didn't have time to ask him about House," Cameron protested quietly as Chase took her to their car.

"I know," Chase nodded. "But how were you going to introduce that subject? Oh, by the way, we were curious about your conversation with House. Care to give us an account of it?"

"Ok fine," Cameron sighed. "Maybe it wasn't the best time. I'll see how things go tomorrow."

"Much better," Chase agreed. "Now let's get home. I need some rest before tomorrow. I have at least two major operations scheduled."

_C__ased in amber_

Kutner had reached House just as he was about to hail a cab and House had accepted the lift home. House was all for just getting out of the car and going home alone, but Kutner reminded him that the bag Chase had brought to the hospital was in the back of the car and House would have trouble managing that, his cane and his keys. So grudgingly House allowed Kutner to follow him inside.

"Just drop the bag anywhere," House instructed and turned to limp towards the kitchen expecting Kutner to leave.

"I'll take it to your bedroom," Kutner informed him and skipped, hopped and jumped there. Or so it looked like to House. Kutner really reminded him of an overgrown puppy.

"Fine," House sighed. "And remember to close the door behind you."

"Which door?" Kutner called from the bedroom cheekily.

"Feeling brave are you?" House muttered. "I am still your boss and I will be back at work next week, and I really don't need any encouragement for making your life miserable."

"But you will also make it interesting," Kutner pointed out as he followed House into the kitchen. "Is there anything you need? You've been away from home for some time now. I could go get you some groceries or anything else you need."

"I'm fine," House sighed. There was really no suppressing that boy. "I can call for take away."

"For breakfast too?" Kutner wondered.

"Wouldn't be the first time," House shrugged. "Though usually I breakfast on yesterday's left-overs."

"Funny," Kutner pondered. "You're a highly paid head of a department and you live like a college kid. Why don't you hire a housekeeper or something?"

"This suits me, and I'm – apparently – overrun by House-keepers already," House glared pointedly.

"I just thought," Kutner hesitated, but since biting his tongue had never been his strong suit, he went on: "I just thought that now that Doctor Wilson is … well out of action, you might need someone to fill in for a while."

"Really," House responded neutrally.

"Yeah," Kutner took note of the warning but went ahead anyway. "I expect he will take some time to recover from his loss. I did see you two talking at the funeral, though. It's good that you are at least more or less back to normal?"

"Normal," House mused. "Yeah, we are back to the good old river Nile. Now get out, I'm fine."

"Ok," Kutner knew when he had outstayed his welcome. "I suspect that Doctor Cuddy will stop by later anyway."

"She doesn't have a key," House remarked.

"Yes she does," Kutner revealed as he opened the door to leave. "She had one made especially." With that he left.

"She would!" House glared at the door hard enough to drill holes in it. Great! Now he had a visit from Cuddy to look forward to. Well, since she had her own key he could just go to bed and sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks for your reviews! Please keep them coming, I like to know what you think :)_

**Once upon a time I was falling in love, But now I'm only falling apart**

"_I don't need pity," Amber stated. "I have a perfectly good job and just because this fellowship would have been good for my career doesn't mean I can't get where I want without it. Besides, I think Taub may well have had a point when he said that it __is probably better to have been fired by House than to have resigned from his employ."_

"_I wasn't offering pity," Wilson denied pretending that he hadn't notice that Amber had cried. "I just thought that being fired is not much fun and you might want to go for a cheer-up drink. And you may well be right about that getting fired versus resigning thing. I mean House fired Chase and look where he is now as opposed to Foreman who resigned."_

"_They're still both here," Amber pointed out._

"_Yes, but in what positions and at what pay?" Wilson reminded her. "What do you say? One drink? It's not like either one of us need to hurry home to anyone."_

"_What makes you so sure I don't have anyone to hurry home to?" Amber asked a little challengingly._

"_I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be presumptuous," Wilson stammered. "I just assumed that you would have gone home already if that was the case."_

"_I was only waiting for the patient to wake up so I could update him on his condition," Amber declared. _

"_There are others in House's team who could have done that," Wilson said._

"_They don't seem to be here," Amber observed. "But you're right, I don't have anyone to hurry home to and I think I'd like a drink."_

Wilson turned in his bed. There was no way to stop the memories from flooding his mind. He didn't really even want to though they made him just feel his loss more keenly. Amber had become such an important part of his life in a very short time and now he didn't know how to go on without her. She had been right, they would always want more time – only time had run out before he even realised it had begun. Wilson stared at the sealing but didn't see it. Tears were blurring his vision.

"_If House could see me now," Wilson laughed half-disbelievingly. Amber raised her head from his shoulder to frown at him questioningly._

"_Is that why you're here?" She asked curiously. There was no accusation in her voice though, just curiosity. "To… I don't know how to put this… To annoy or surprise House? Play truant or something?"_

"_Oh, no, no, no," Wilson was silently cursing his wayward tongue. House's incredulous face had just flashed in his mind for a second when he __had thought about how surprising it was that he was here, in bed with … Amber. "No, I… No, it just occurred to me what he would say if he knew where I am right now. He has nothing to do with me being here." Suddenly Wilson realised what House actually would say if he saw them and a tiny glimmer of some doubt crept into his mind. "I mean, he doesn't have anything to do with this, does he?"_

"_As in am I really so easy that a drink…." Amber started._

"_Two drinks," Wilson inserted._

"_Ok, two drinks gets you a place in my bed," Amber went on. "Or are you here because I'm trying to get back at House for firing me?"_

"_Well, I wouldn't call you easy, it's not like we met at the bar for the first time or anything," Wilson clarified. "But yes, are you trying to get back at House? Not that I'm complaining, just I'd like to know."_

"_I lie, I cheat, I manipulate people any way I can to get what I want and need," Amber leaned on his chest and eyeballed him without blinking. "But. I. Do. Not. Use. Sex. Not as a weapon or even as a tool. Ever." Then she gave him a deliciously mischievous smile and added: "However, if he finds out about this and gets annoyed, I don't mind that one little bit. Especially if it puts you one up on him."_

"_Ok, I can live with that," Wilson smiled reassured. "Only, I'd like to meet you again and I'd rather House didn't find out."_

"_Are you asking me for a date?" Amber queried. "Like a proper date, not just drinks?"_

"_Yes, I'd like to get to know you better," Wilson made a slightly uncertain gesture. "I'd like to keep on seeing you and maybe even seeing where we might go from here."_

"_Well, you have seen quite a lot of me already," Amber mused with almost a smirk. "And I certainly have had my eye on you for a while already, so yes. I'd like to see where dating you might lead."_

"_You've had your eye on me?" Wilson repeated._

"_Yes," Amber nodded. "And I have seen you noticing me, too."_

"_Well, you're a bit hard to miss," Wilson felt somewhat embarrassed. He hadn't realised he had been so obviously checking her out. "I mean you're tall and blond and you have great legs. In fact, they're even better than I imagined."_

"_They are?" Amber asked rubbing one of them along one of his. "Glad to know you approve…."_

Wilson turned to his side. He wasn't going to sleep tonight no matter what. Falling in love with Amber had been wonderful. He had never dated a woman like her before. Every one of his previous girlfriends – and wives – had liked and expected him to take care of things, to do things for them and to take care of them. If Amber didn't like something, the service the speed at which they were seated – or rather not seated – she took matters into her own hands. And she was good at getting things done. At first Wilson had been disconcerted and hadn't quite known what to do, but then he decided to just sit back and enjoy it. It was interesting to see her in action, especially as he never had to experience any of her manipulations himself.

_The white coat looked good on Amber but even more than her appearance Wilson liked the shock on House's face when he realised who Wilson's new girlfriend was. Sure there was going to be reckoning but right now Wilson couldn't help but smile from ear to ear – even though House had already left them alone five minutes ago._

"_You're gloating," Amber told him with a smile. "I like it on you."_

"_He reads me too well," Wilson defended himself unnecessarily. "I don't often get to surprise him."_

"_So now that he knows, are you finally moving in with me?" Amber asked conversationally. "There isn't much point for you to pay for the hotel when you spend most nights with me anyway."_

"_You're right," Wilson nodded. "Besides, he is going to try and confront you after this, maybe if I'm with you he will be… Never mind. He's House."_

"_I can deal with him," Amber assured. "I'm not working for him now, so we're more equal. He can't fire me or anything."_

"_I wouldn't be too sure about that anything," Wilson bit his lip worriedly. "House isn't exactly going to be nice about this."_

"_The only time he has been nice to me was right before he fired me," Amber reminded him. "I can handle his not-nice just fine."_

"_If anyone can, it is certainly you," Wilson agreed. He was still a little worried since he really didn't want to lose either his friend or his girlfriend, but this was the risk he had chosen to take once he started to date Amber. And she was strong and more than likely capable of holding her own against House._

Wilson didn't know quite what had transpired between Amber and House but there was at first a cessation of hostilities until House had come over to demand "joint custody" as he called it. They had ended up in Cuddy's office for mediation. Now Wilson felt ashamed of it. There had been a flash of real hurt in Amber's eyes when he had said that he was scared of both House and her. She had never mentioned it afterwards and Wilson hadn't thought back to that moment since. Now, when everything about her was suddenly brighter and clearer than ever before, he saw it. And he didn't like it. "I'm sorry Amber," he whispered into the night.

He didn't get an answer. Why should he have; that wasn't the only time he had let her down but even so she had never blamed him or tried to punish him. Even with the bed there had been no games or manipulation – not with him. He still felt sorry for the salesmen, though. His dislike for confrontations had partly forced Amber into acting the way she did – especially with House. That she was good at it; that she actually thrived in battle especially with House did not change the fact that House was his friend and it should have been his business to set the boundaries. Amber had called it: he was an adult and capable of making his own arrangements. He just had hard time saying no to House. That was why he had called from the bar and got Amber. And what had his immaturity got Wilson?

Wilson buried his face into the pillow and cried. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered that he still had tears to shed but soon even that thought was drowned.

Wilson had fallen into an uneasy sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning, but he didn't feel even a little rested when he got up around eight o'clock. He made some coffee for himself but he had drunk only about half a mug when the doorbell rang an hour later. He almost didn't go but finally he got up from the bar stool in the kitchen and went to the door. He found Cameron and Cuddy both standing on the other side. Chase was there too, but he was standing back and seemed to be just tagging along.

"You really don't look good," Cuddy sighed. "You haven't even eaten anything since yesterday, have you?"

"Don't remember," Wilson shook his head. "Probably not. I was thinking of having something once I had some coffee."

"Are you letting us in?" Cameron asked.

"Oh, sorry, yeah," Wilson stepped aside. "I suppose I should dress or something," he added as he looked down and realised he was still wearing the college pants and the t-shirt he slept in. If you excuse me a moment?" Wilson just turned and went into the bedroom.

"I'll go and get us some bagels or something," Chase told the women. "Why don't you go to the kitchen and make some fresh coffee. If he isn't out by the time I get back, I'll go and get him. Ok?"

"Thanks," Cuddy nodded as she and Cameron headed for the kitchen.

Chase returned in about fifteen minutes and just as Cameron was letting him back in Wilson came out of the bedroom. He had changed into a tracksuit and didn't look any better than he had when he first opened the door for them.

"There is fresh coffee in the kitchen," Cameron said to both Chase and Wilson.

"I got us fresh bagels," Chase lifted his bag. "Not filled, but they'll do. It's not like anyone of us is that hungry, I suspect."

They all went into the kitchen were Cuddy was pouring coffee for them. Chase put the bag of bagels on the table and they each took one, even Wilson, though he more or less just nibbled on his.

"Look, Wilson," Cuddy decided to get to the point of their visit. "We came here to help you with practical things. I know you don't feel up to making any decisions right now but there are some things you can't really put off much longer."

"What do you mean?" Wilson wasn't quite following.

"Well, for one, this flat," Cameron reminded him. "This was Amber's right?"

"Ours, actually," Wilson tried to shake some sense into his head. "I co-signed when I moved in."

"Oh, good," Cuddy sighed with relief. "We didn't know for sure and were afraid you might need to vacate this soon. But now we don't need to worry about that. But there is still Amber's estate. Do you know what is going to happen there?"

"She had a will," Wilson concentrated as best he could. "She was very organized, you know. Anyway, I'm the executor and I can choose to keep any furniture or mementoes or similar things I want but the rest of her effects and what money and such she had go to charity. She named I think two charities she wanted to benefit. I'm to sell whatever I don't want to keep and you know… I have a copy of it somewhere…"

"That's ok," Cameron inserted. "We don't need to see it. We just wanted to know if there was something that you needed help with right away. I know it's not easy to get down to the mundane things of having lost someone. Do you… How do you feel about her clothes and everyday things in the flat?"

"What do you mean?" Wilson didn't understand the question.

"Do they make you feel worse, only you can't bear to touch them to put them away," Cameron explained. "Or do you still want them around to make it seem less real that she isn't coming back."

"I…" Wilson looked stricken as he stared at Cameron. "I don't know. I… I… I don't know."

"Ok, no need to make up your mind right now," Cameron reassured Wilson. "You can take your time and see how you feel. And you can call us anytime if you need any help. Really."

"You really can," Cuddy insisted too. "We were worried that you might need to make decisions about the flat or other things immediately. But since that's ok, we wait till you are more ready to deal with all the practical things. Just know that we are here for you when you need us."

"Thanks," Wilson nodded listlessly. He did feel comforted somewhere deep down for having friends care about him and come and help, but he was too tired and still too dazed to be very conscious of anything.

"Do you need company today?" Cameron asked. "Chase has surgery but I'm not working today. If you want me to just stay and be here, I can do that. I'll just putter around, get you something to eat and if you want talk. But you don't need to talk or anything if you don't feel up to it. I'll just be here if you need. Unless you really prefer to be alone."

"I…" Wilson didn't know what to say.

"How about, if she just stays for now," Chase suggested. "And then if she gets on your nerves you tell her to leave. No hard feelings."

"I think that might work," Wilson agreed slowly.

"Good," Chase stated. "I need to get to the hospital and I suspect so does Cuddy. Don't be afraid to call for us, though, if you need. We're here for you. And not just us…"

"Thanks," Wilson accepted. "How… Do you know how House is doing?"

"He's ok," Cuddy responded. "Kutner is checking on him this morning and I'll go and see him later. He seems to recover just fine."

"Ok," Wilson said and stared at his coffee. He seemed to have spent all the energy he could muster for the morning so Cuddy and Chase decided to just go and leave Cameron to look after him.

_Cased in Amber_

Later that afternoon Cuddy went to see House. She let herself in with her key and found House, again, in his bedroom asleep. She was beginning to feel this would get to be a habit. She sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for House to wake up. He did soon enough as he became aware of the presence.

"I hope you're naked, Cuddy," House muttered without opening his eyes.

"Not even in your dreams," Cuddy retorted.

"Oh, actually, very much so in my dreams," House said as he opened his eyes and grimaced in disappointment. "You could have worn something low cut at least. I'm a sick man after all."

"Yes, I know you are a sick man, even when you're not ill," Cuddy snapped back. "How are you doing? Any pain? Double vision? Anything that should worry me?"

"I'll live," House sighed. "Seen Wilson?"

"Yes," Cuddy decided this was not the time to press House about his own health. "I visited this morning and Cameron stayed with him. He isn't coping too well yet."

"What did you expect?" House shrugged. "He buried the love of his life only yesterday."

"Don't House," Cuddy admonished him. "Don't be flip about this."

"Who is being flip?" House asked. "I meant what I said. She was the love of his life."

"They knew each other for some six months or so!" Cuddy exclaimed. "I'm not saying that he didn't love Amber and isn't devastated. But to call her the love of his life… surely that is going a little too far."

"No, it isn't," House stated. "Time isn't always necessary to decide that. She quite probably was his other half."

"Isn't that a rather romantic view?" Cuddy wondered.

"You object?" House queried.

"No, actually I don't," Cuddy mused. "I'm just surprised that you think so."

"I'm not blind," House adjusted his pillows. "I saw what her death did to him."

"I'm calling his mother," Cuddy announced.

"His mother?" House repeated. "Have you met his mother?"

"No," Cuddy responded. "But I assume she is a typical Jewish mother: pushy, bossy and controlling, treats you like you're five even when you're fifty and have ten kids yourself all trained professionals. But when you really hurt, when you really need a mother she is there for you like nobody else."

"Hmmm…" House sighed. "You may have a point. She will take him home with her, you know."

"Yes, and a week or two with her will…" Cuddy started.

"Make him climb the walls," House finished for her.

"Maybe," Cuddy conceded. "But he will be able to function then."

"What's the hurry?" House asked. "He is a co-signer for the flat so he doesn't need to hurry out of there and she has no family that will push him into sorting her things."

"How…" Cuddy stared at House. "Sorry, I forgot, these are exactly the sort of things you would know. True there is no hurry, but waiting isn't going to make things better either. He needs help and his mother is the right person to help him."

"Yeah, you're probably right," House sighed.

"So do you want to eat?" Cuddy changed the subject. "I could cook something for us."

"I don't have any ingredients," House said.

"I brought ingredients with me," Cuddy told him.

"Oh," House reacted. "Ok then, I could eat something."

"Good," Cuddy stated as she stood up. "I'll go and start then. You get yourself presentable or something."

"Aww," House whined. "Can't I just eat in my pyjamas Mommy?"

"No," Cuddy said. "So go and shower or whatever and get dressed and then you can come into the kitchen." She left him to get up at his own speed. He smirked.


	7. Chapter 7

**There's a ****calm before the storm; I know, and it's been coming for some time**

Cuddy had called Wilson's mother and as House had predicted she had taken her son home with her. Despite having been cleared for work by Foreman House had stayed home for an extra week. Cuddy wasn't sure why he was suddenly so compliant, unless it was because he knew Wilson was being taken care of, but she didn't care. She was just grateful for it. He did come to work the following week but took it easy since he didn't have a case and Cuddy wasn't hounding him for clinic duty – not yet. She was thinking of starting that again come Monday; House was too quiet, something needed to be done to get him going as usual again.

Cuddy poured herself a glass of wine to take with her into the living room. She had for once been able to leave work on time on a Friday and as she didn't have to work the next day she decided she could just relax. She had had a quick shower, changed into an old, soft track suit and had a salad. Now she wanted to relax in front of the TV and sip her wine. Her plans were foiled when the phone rang.

"Dr Cuddy," she identified herself.

"Lisa, it's me," Wilson's voice came over the phone.

"Wilson!" Cuddy exclaimed – she was careful about calling him James in case he was still sensitive about it. Mind you after two weeks with his Mother he ought to be pretty desensitised to almost anything. "Good to hear your voice. How are you?"

"I'm better," Wilson replied though his voice was still tired. "I'm on my way home. Couldn't take my Mother any longer. Not that I don't love her dearly…"

"I know," Cuddy reassured him. "My Mother is Jewish too."

"Yeah, that's partly why I'm calling you," Wilson sounded somewhat sheepish.

"And the other part?" Cuddy queried. "You know you can ask anything."

"I hope you mean that," Wilson sighed. "I needed to get away from my Mother, but as I was driving… The closer I get the more… I'm not ready to go home yet. Or at least I can't go there alone. Can I stay the night in your guestroom? And would you come to the flat with me tomorrow?"

"Yes," Cuddy said simply. "I'll get the room ready. How soon will you be here?"

"I'll have to stop for some coffee," Wilson mused. "I should be there in a little over an hour."

"Good," Cuddy accepted. "See you then."

"Thank you," Wilson said with feeling.

"I told you I'm here for you if you need me," Cuddy reminded him before hanging up.

Cuddy took her wine glass with her as she went to check the guest room. It was ready; all she needed to do was set out the towels and air the room quickly. She also took some soup from the freezer in case Wilson had been living on just coffee. Then she just sat down in front of the TV with another glass of wine and waited.

Wilson had been pretty good at estimating his arrival; the doorbell rang just an hour and five minutes after the phone call. Cuddy opened the door and found an exhausted Wilson on her doorstep. He did look a little better than he had two weeks ago, but still not even close to the old boyish charmer he had been.

"Hi," Wilson greeted her.

"Come in," Cuddy stood aside to let him in. "Hungry or did you eat when you stopped for coffee?"

"No. And no," Wilson replied. "Haven't been hungry for some time. Not that that stopped my Mother from trying to make me eat."

"I can imagine," Cuddy smiled.

"Are you sure?" Wilson asked with some dryness.

"Yes," Cuddy told him. "I do have a Jewish Mother too, don't forget."

"True," Wilson conceded. "I just think that my Mother takes even that to new levels."

"I'm sure we all think that," Cuddy mused as she showed Wilson were to take his bag. "I'll warm you some soup. Even if you're not hungry there is still something comforting and relaxing about soup. I'll put it in a mug so you can just sip it in the living room."

"Ok, thanks," Wilson didn't have enough energy to refuse. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Take your time," Cuddy instructed. "Even with a microwave it takes longer than a minute so heat it."

Less than ten minutes later Wilson was sitting in Cuddy's living room sipping soup while Cuddy nursed her third (small) glass of wine. Cuddy had turned off the TV; there was a fire in the fireplace instead. They sat in silence. Cuddy didn't think it was an uncomfortable silence, but she was also quite prepared to listen if he wanted to talk. He didn't though, and so they sat there, on the floor just leaning against the couch and keeping company to each other quietly. Until the doorbell rang again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't even ask if you were expecting company," Wilson suddenly realised. "I'll leave you…"

"No, no, stay where you are," Cuddy told him as she got up. "I'm not expecting anyone."

Cuddy went to the door wondering who it might be. When she opened the door she found House outside, much to her surprise. He wasn't supposed to have a patient!

"You rang, Ma'am," House greeted her irreverently.

"No, actually you did," Cuddy reminded him wryly. "What is it? You don't have a patient surely?"

"No," House admitted as he got serious. "I wanted a word with you if it's ok."

"Fine, come in," Cuddy stepped aside to let House in. She closed the door and gestured him towards the living room. "Wilson's here, too. He couldn't stay with his Mother anymore but wasn't ready to go home either quite yet."

House had just walked into the living room and seen Wilson himself when he heard Cuddy's words. "You should have said," House stated. "I'm sorry, I can go. It wasn't that important. We can talk at work on Monday."

"Oh come on House," Cuddy huffed. "You're not interrupting anything. We were just sitting here quietly, no baring of souls or anything else that might get too emotional for you."

"It's not that," House denied as he turned back ready to leave again – only Cuddy wasn't moving.

"Stop that," Cuddy told him. "He's your best friend and he needs all his friends now. I know you're not good at comforting and all that, but nobody expects you to do anything mushy. I can handle that. All you need to do is to be here for him."

"Don't you think you should ask his opinion about that first?" House asked.

"You talked at… well you talked with each other before he left," Cuddy reminded House. "I know things can't get back to normal right away but you are his friend."

"Wilson?" House turned to look at Wilson. He didn't get any answer; Wilson just looked at him with confusion in his eyes. "Right, didn't think so." House concluded. "He is not ready Cuddy and you shouldn't push. I'll talk to you on Monday."

"No. Stay," Wilson said suddenly. "I… There is something I have been thinking and I think I'd rather say it to you both at once so that I don't need to go over it again and again."

"Ok," Cuddy nodded. "See House, you should stay. Just sit down." House obliged.

"I'm resigning," Wilson just threw it in the room.

"What!" Cuddy couldn't believe her ears. "Resigning from where?"

"From the hospital," Wilson clarified. "From my position as the head of oncology. As a doctor in Princeton-Plainsborough Teaching Hospital."

Cuddy just stared at him speechless.

"Don't be an idiot!" House exploded.

"What?" Wilson asked surprised and Cuddy turned to stare at House.

"Don't. Be. An. Idiot." House repeated with emphasis. "What do you think you're going to do if you leave your job?"

"I'll figure it out," Wilson shrugged with some apathy. "I'll take a position as a GP somewhere or something. I don't need to make up my mind any time soon."

"Wilson," Cuddy didn't quite know what to say. "This… Look, if you feel you can't come back to work, you can have time off as much as you want. You can take a sabbatical or something. You shouldn't make a final decision like this now. You're not…. You are letting your grief dictate your decisions but you shouldn't do that. Your life is here."

"What life?" Wilson wanted to know.

"You crawling into the grave with her isn't going to make Amber any less dead or you any less lonely," House stated quite harshly. Cuddy gasped in shock.

"I'm not doing anything of the sort," Wilson insisted with some animation finally. "I just can't face life here without her. Not now."

"Then wait!" House instructed. "Nobody is expecting you to just shrug her off and go on as if nothing has happened. Cuddy just told you that you can have a whole year off if you so want."

"And a year will make all the difference?" Wilson scorned.

"Maybe not all the difference," Cuddy responded quietly. "But a great difference."

"And you're not honouring her memory by quitting," House said. "She wasn't a quitter."

"She told me to turn off the machine," Wilson muttered.

"That wasn't quitting," House pointed out. "She just chose to leave on her own terms. She was already dead."

"Because you killed him," Wilson spat at House only to look totally appalled right after.

House took a deep breath and looked Wilson straight in the eyes: "I know." With that he turned and left the room.

Cuddy was stunned for a moment. She looked at Wilson who was burying his face in his hands and then she quickly followed House to the door.

"He didn't mean it," Cuddy said urgently. "It's just his grief talking."

"Maybe," House nodded as he opened the door. He stepped out and turned to look at Cuddy: "But tell me, where is he wrong?" He closed the door behind him.

Cuddy returned slowly to the living room where Wilson was sitting sobbing silently.

"Jimmy?" Cuddy called softly.

"I didn't… It was an accident," Wilson told her.

"I know," Cuddy said as she took Wilson in her arms. "I know."

Only she didn't know. She didn't know what Wilson meant with the accident: him accusing House out loud or Amber's death.

Wilson sobbed against Cuddy's shoulder for about ten minutes but finally he calmed down.

"I'll… I'll go and wash my face…" Wilson mumbled as he pulled away from Cuddy.

"Ok," Cuddy nodded. As soon as Wilson was in the bathroom Cuddy snatched up her phone and dialled. "Chase?"

"_Yeah, what is it Dr Cuddy_," Chase responded in the other end.

"Wilson is with me now," Cuddy tried to explain the situation as fast as she could. "He wanted to come home but realised that he didn't want to go home alone so he came here and we're going to his flat tomorrow together. Anyway, House wanted to talk with me about something and he came over and then they… Well words were exchanged and then Wilson said…"

"_He accused House of having killed Amber_," Chase figured out what Cuddy was trying to say.

"Yes," Cuddy confirmed. "I'm sure he didn't mean it, but anyway, House just accepted it. He didn't even try to… He just accepted it!"

"_I know_," Chase sighed.

"This is what you didn't want to tell me?" Cuddy asked.

"_Yeah_," Chase verified. "_I was hoping that the talk they had at the funeral had taken care of that, but apparently not_."

"Well, that's neither here nor there now," Cuddy concluded. "Could you… Could you try and find out how House is doing?"

"_If I can find him_," Chase agreed. "_You're staying with Wilson?"_

"Yes," Cuddy said. "I can't leave him now. But I worry about House."

"_You always worry about them both_," Chase told her. "_Don't you think you should get a life?"_

"I very much fear they are my life," Cuddy sighed a bit desperately and then she hung up on Chase.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you for the reviews. And yes, I do like Bonnie Tyler, and Johnny Cash and Leonard Cohen and any other good songs that are either good or fit my mood or both :D_

**I tried my best, it wasn't much**

The first place Chase looked for House was House's flat. He wasn't very hopeful of finding House there as it was much more likely that he had gone for a drive on his bike or even buried himself in some bar or another so he was quite surprised to hear music through the door as he reached the doorstep. He knocked on the door and waited. The music stopped. At first there was no sound but then he heard House's cane thump towards the door. House opened the door and stared at Chase for a moment in silence. Finally he stepped aside to let Chase in.

"Cuddy sent you?" House asked.

"She was worried," Chase saw no reason to deny the obvious.

"She needs a life," House observed.

"I believe I said something like that to her," Chase smiled ruefully. "But she seems to think that you and Wilson are… well, if not her life exactly, then at least a big part of it."

"Then she needs **another** life," House stated as he sat down at the piano again.

"You're preaching to the choir here," Chase told House. "You need to tell her, not me."

"Yeah, I know," House sighed. "But she doesn't listen to me."

"Could that have something to do with the constant sexual harassment and insubordination you subject her to?" Chase ventured as he got a beer for himself from House's kitchen and then settled on the couch.

"Hmmm," House seemed to give it some thought as he played something soft and almost mournful on the piano. "You'd think that would be enough to get her write me out of her life, wouldn't you."

"Except that you're rather important for the hospital," Chase reminded House. "And the hospital definitely is her life – pretty much her whole life – and so you and Wilson, as important parts of the hospital end up being important parts of her life too. And she likes you both for some reason."

"She likes Wilson," House corrected mildly.

"She sent me here to check up on you!" Chase exclaimed. "She slept by your bedside after you had that seizure. What more does she need to do to convince you that you matter to her?"

"As you said, the hospital is her life and I still have some value there," House pointed out.

"Why is it so very difficult for you to accept that people like you and care for you?" Chase asked.

"Maybe I just think they shouldn't," House mused. "I mean look what liking me got Wilson."

"House…" Chase wanted to say something but couldn't think of anything. They had been dancing around the reason he had come to check up on House so he should have been prepared to talk about it but House throwing the subject in front of him like an anvil stumped him.

"What?" House didn't stop playing but he turned his head to look at Chase. "Isn't that the subject you really wanted to talk about?"

"Yeah. It is," Chase accepted that House was going to lead this conversation too.

"So what do you want to know?" House asked – softening the melody he was playing.

"Actually, what I want to know is what is that you're playing?" Chase decided to ask a question all of his own. And he really wanted to know.

"Why?" House queried. "Do you think there is something significant about it? Something that you need to report to Cuddy?"

"No, I just want to know," Chase shrugged. "I've never heard it before and… I'd just like to know."

"Lacrima Heliandum," House replied curtly.

"It sounds sad," Chase ventured though House's tone hadn't encouraged any further questioning on the subject.

"Lachrymose," House agreed but his tone clearly closed the subject.

"Fine," Chase gave up. "Cuddy wants to know if you're ok."

"Now that Wilson has finally said _it_ out loud?" House clarified.

"Yes," Chase nodded.

"Makes no difference," House shrugged. "I knew he felt that way; I was prepared for it. I'm just surprised that it took him so long. You can report to Cuddy that I'm not feeling suicidal."

"I could have told her that without coming here," Chase stated.

"Then why did you come?" House wanted to know.

"Just because you're not suicidal does not mean you're ok," Chase said. "Cuddy – and I – need to know you're going to be ok."

"Why wouldn't I be ok?" House finally stopped playing and turned fully towards Chase. "What has changed?"

Chase stared at House in silence but finally he had to acknowledge: "Nothing, I suppose."

"So, how's Wilson?" House asked.

"Don't know, but Cuddy has him," Chase replied.

"She'll take care of him," House stated with conviction.

"Why did he accuse you now," Chase wondered. "He didn't give any indication at all that that was what he was thinking before."

"He probably didn't know he was thinking it," House shrugged. "As you said when we last spoke about this, why am I guilty but Amber isn't. I think Wilson was afraid to start distributing blame because it would have meant asking that question. And though there is a perfectly good answer to it, I don't think he wanted to be even that much disloyal to Amber as to ask. But it had to come out."

"Had to as in?" Chase prompted.

"Since he was thinking it he had to say it," House said. "It would eventually have festered anyway. Wilson is not the type to keep things inside himself and not go mad."

_Cased in Amber_

Cuddy waited for Wilson in the living room; she didn't need to wait for very long. Wilson had only taken enough time to really just wash his face and take a deep breath.

"Feeling a bit better?" Cuddy asked him as he walked back.

"Well, if feeling like crap is better than feeling like crap then yes," Wilson managed to inject some humour into his voice.

"So…. want to talk?" Cuddy didn't want to push.

"I… I don't know what made me say that to him," Wilson sighed as he sat down. "It just came out of my mouth without any connection to me. I just heard those words like it was somebody else talking."

"So you didn't mean them?" Cuddy suggested.

"I think I did," Wilson pondered. "If somewhere deep down I didn't blame House I would not have said that to him. But rationally I know it's not fair. It was an accident. Nobody is to blame, not even the truck driver since he was dead before impact. People did what they do and there was an accident. Except that I don't seem to be able to convince myself of it."

"House seemed to agree with you," Cuddy said. "He too thinks he is to blame."

"How does it show?" There was some unexpected hardness in Wilson's tone.

"You know he never shows these things," Cuddy reminded him. "He has been subdued, but he was rather severely injured both in the accident and by what he did after it. He may have said something to Chase though."

"Has his behaviour changed?" Wilson was now more curious.

"He has been back to work for only a week," Cuddy explained. "He hasn't had a patient and I haven't asked him to do any clinic yet. I was going to do that next week, though."

"I don't think this has changed him," Wilson stated.

"Well, we both know that it really was an accident," Cuddy pointed out. "It may take time for you to feel it as well, but rationally we both know."

"And he always says that people don't change," Wilson added.

"I don't know what this has done to him," Cuddy had to admit. "It's too soon. And it is also too soon for you to resign. I'm not accepting your resignation so you may as well spare yourself the trouble of writing the letter. You can have a month off for starters and then we will talk about that sabbatical. And you're not going anywhere before you have got things sorted out between you and House. Even if it means that you will end the friendship you need closure. You two need to talk about the accident and Amber and what you both feel."

"Good luck trying to get House to participate in any _feelings_," Wilson pointed out.

"He was willing to do anything for you when Amber was dying," Cuddy mused. "I think he will do even this for you. You are his best friend."

"As he is mine," Wilson acknowledged. "Or at least he was until I accused him of murder."

"I suspect he will forgive you for that," Cuddy ventured. "Given the situation. But you do need to talk it through, for both your sakes."

"Maybe," Wilson sighed. "I'm rather tired. Do you mind if….?"

"No, I don't mind," Cuddy told him. "Do you need anything? Sleeping pills?"

"I'm fine," Wilson assured her. "I still have some of the pills I got before I went home."

"Ok then," Cuddy smiled. "Good night and sleep as long as you can."

_Cased in Amber_

Chase got home much sooner from his errand than he had expected. House had clearly wanted to be alone and since he seemed to be about as ok as he had been at work that day Chase had decided not to force the issue. He had called Cuddy from House's flat because he wanted to be able to tell House, too, that Wilson was ok (or ok enough at least) but once he had done that he had left.

"You found House at home then?" Cameron asked as he walked in.

"Yes," Chase nodded. "He was a bit morose but other than that he seemed ok."

"So what was it all about?" Cameron wanted to know. "You promised to explain once you got back."

"Wilson is home," Chase started. "Or at least he is in Princeton. He is staying with Cuddy tonight and they are going to his flat tomorrow. Anyway, House stopped by to talk with Cuddy about something – only they never got around to what, and with one thing and another, Wilson told House that he blames House for Amber's death."

"Oh, no!" Cameron was horrified. "No wonder Cuddy wanted you to check up on House. He must be so hurt."

"Not really," Chase denied. "He has blamed himself all along so he took Wilson's accusation pretty much on his stride."

"What?" Cameron was astounded. "It was an accident. Ok, Amber would have been home and in bed had House not called Wilson and got Amber but nothing he did was anything people don't do every day and nothing bad happens. The whole thing was a combination of many things! It wasn't anybody's fault."

"I did try to get that point across," Chase sighed. "I tried it before. But he isn't accepting it. I can't say that his feelings of guilt are unreasonable; any more than Wilson's are. And I'm sure rationally they both know that it really was just an accident. Had the truck driver not had a heart attack and died on the wheel none of it would have happened. But they are not listening to their reason right now. Not even House."

"He is not going to admit that," Cameron predicted.

"Not even close," Chase agreed. "He thinks he has perfectly good reasons to feel guilty. I have tried to talk sense to him. And I'm sure Cuddy will try to talk to Wilson. But I'm not sure that will help much."

"They will need to talk with each other," Cameron stated.

"House will do whatever Wilson wants," Chase mused. "He feels he owes Wilson. If Cuddy can talk Wilson into it they will talk. I just don't know if they can sort this out. It takes patience and I'm not sure House has much of it."

"They need counselling," Cameron decided.

"Good luck trying to get House agree!" Chase laughed.

"You just said that he will do anything for Wilson," Cameron pointed out.

Chase thought it over for a moment. "You could actually be right. Maybe you should run it by Cuddy tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Cameron asked. "Don't you mean Monday?"

"Are you trying to make me believe you're not going to check up on Wilson tomorrow?" Chase smiled.

"That doesn't mean I will necessarily run into Cuddy, too," Cameron said.

"After tonight I'm fairly sure it does," Chase maintained.

"You could be right," Cameron admitted.

A little later that night Chase sat down at his computer. He wanted to find out more about the piece of music House had played. Lacrima Heliandum – tears of Helios. Chase googled it. He got a planet, a dog, contact lenses, dictionaries but no music. Just out of curiosity he clicked a dictionary link and got an unexpected answer from the Latin-English dictionary: Lacrima Heliandum – amber.

"Oh my god," Chase whispered. "House. It has to be his!"


	9. Chapter 9

_Just s__o you know, there is a very slight Bones/House x-over happening here. You'll see what I mean ;) And it also turns out that my story has more spoilery elements for S5 than I originally thought!_

**When you look b****ehind you, there's no open door**

Tuesday morning Cuddy told both House and Wilson to come to her office. The week-end before she - and Cameron - had helped Wilson settle back in his flat. On Monday she had had a long talk with House in her office, and she hadn't looked too happy after it but nobody knew why. On Monday Wilson had also been to her office though he wasn't coming back to work yet. In fact the only reason he was in the hospital on Tuesday was to empty his office. He still maintained that he was resigning but since Cuddy had refused to accept his resignation he was officially taking a sabbatical. But now Cuddy wanted to see both House and Wilson; House suspected that she had decided on some course of action that would let her keep both her top oncologist and her top diagnostician. House hoped she would get what she wanted but he doubted it.

"There you are," Cuddy said as House entered her office. Wilson was already there. "So follow me." Cuddy went on and walked out with determination.

House and Wilson exchanged puzzled looks, neither seemed to know what Cuddy was up to now. House wasn't going to take it silently: "Follow you where? Not that I mind walking behind you and admiring your ass, but Wilson here isn't ready for any frisky business yet."

"Shut up House," Wilson snapped at him.

"I want to make sure there are no interruptions," Cuddy explained. She stopped at one of the small rooms reserved for workshops and small groups working together. She opened the door and gestured for House and Wilson to go in before her. "This should do."

House and Wilson went in giving Cuddy uncertain glances but as they got in they stopped short. There was somebody in the room already. A tall man – Wilson was sure he was even taller than House – with carelessly cut (or maybe uncut) salt and pepper hair (must have been black at one time) and a rather prominent nose that had clearly been broken at some point of his life. He was dressed in a suit that was clearly made for him, but still looked slightly loose or just somehow not as sharp as one would expect on a man who was standing so straight, though his head was bowed to the side in what seemed like a possibly permanent tilt. Wilson heard House stop in midstride and gasp a little before he snapped his mouth shut. Before Wilson could turn and take a searching look Cuddy distracted him.

"Welcome to your couples counselling," Cuddy said, closed the door and locked it. From the outside.

"What…" Wilson stuttered giving a startled look at the stranger in the room and then looking at House. "We're not a couple!"

"You have to get past his self loathing first," House observed as he walked further into the room and settled against wall a little away from everyone. He seemed to be still assessing the situation.

"Dr House. Dr Wilson," the stranger greeted them both with a nod. "I'm Dr Gordon Gordon Wyatt. I believe you Americans would call me a shrink." He introduced himself with a very clipped English accent.

Wilson stared at him for a second and then he turned to pound on the door: "Cuddy! Stop this nonsense! Open the door!"

"That isn't going to help," Gordon said apologetically as he sat down at the table. "Dr Cuddy made it quite clear that she means for us to stay here until some kind of a resolve has been reached. And she looked like she really meant it when she said it."

"She can be very stubborn when she wants," House agreed.

"Why?" Wilson asked turning to lean against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. "How is this supposed to change anything? Are you supposed to wave some magic wand and make me forget about Amber and want to go on with my life as before?"

"No," Gordon shook his head gently. "This is not about your grief as such. This is more like damage control. Sometimes grief causes unnecessary damage and Dr Cuddy would prefer to keep it to minimum. She doesn't want to lose either of you."

"She can find a new oncologist any day," Wilson scoffed. "This is a good hospital and she has a great reputation. They'll line up the moment she agrees to announce the opening."

"She won't find anyone as good as you," House stated from the sidelines.

"And I got the impression that it wasn't just your services to the hospital that she was reluctant to forgo," Gordon explained. "She doesn't want to lose a friend either."

"I'd keep in touch with her," Wilson shrugged.

"I'm not sure she was talking only about you," Gordon announced startling both Wilson and House. "Since I'm sure she would know how to keep in touch with you."

"So this is about House, again," Wilson snorted. "Figures."

"That sounded a lot like resentment," Gordon mused.

"Everything is always about House," Wilson sighed. "Cuddy spends half her life babying him."

"Why?" Gordon asked. "He looks quite grown up to me."

"Ask him," Wilson instructed nodding towards House.

"Cuddy doesn't baby me," House denied. "She babies her hospital. And since my methods tend to cause havoc she does damage control."

"Ah, the squeaky wheel syndrome," Gordon nodded sagely. "And you resent that Dr Wilson?"

"I don't," Wilson stated. "I mean I don't usually."

"But you do now?" Gordon wanted to know. "Do you feel that most of that attention ought to be on you now? I was under the impression that you have had a lot of help and support from all your friends, including Dr Cuddy."

"It's not the attention he gets," House remarked. "It's the attention he wants me **not** to get."

"Ah, so finally we get to the relationship between you two," Gordon seemed glad. "Why don't you think House deserves any attention now, Dr Wilson?"

"I don't," Wilson sighed and sat down at the table. "It's just that… Nothing has changed for him."

"But everything has changed for you?" Gordon supplied.

"Yes, everything has changed," Wilson insisted. "But still everyone expects me to just shrug it off and go on as always. I tried to resign but Dr Cuddy refused to accept it. She gave me indefinite leave instead."

"You know that this is not the time to burn your bridges," House raised his voice but didn't exactly yell. "You, of all people, know how people react to grief and bereavement. This is not the time to make permanent decisions. By all means, go away for a spell. Fine, go _do for your true-love as any young man may, sit and mourn all at her grave for a twelvemonth and a day_. But after that you have to go on living."

"Interesting," Gordon pondered. "You're familiar with the Border Ballads. However, quotations aside, Dr Wilson, House has a point. This may not be the best time to make decisions like that. Why do you so resent the alternatives Dr Cuddy is offering you?"

"Do you like it when people behave like you're not old enough to run your own life?" Wilson demanded.

"Now you know how it feels," House muttered under his breath.

"Shut up House," Wilson hadn't quite heard him but was sure he didn't even want to.

"But didn't you just resent Dr Cuddy for babying House but not you?" Gordon wondered. "Why do you now resent her for the opposite reason?"

"Stop twisting my words," Wilson instructed the shrink. "I don't resent Cuddy."

"Then who do you resent?" Gordon wanted to know.

"Me," House gave the answer. "He resents me."

"Why?" Gordon asked.

"Because I killed Amber," House replied blandly.

"I was under the impression that her death was an accident," Gordon frowned. "I'm sure I was told she died because the bus she was in had a crash."

"She was in the bus because of me," House stated.

"You had forced her in there?" Gordon surmised.

"He got drunk, called for a ride and then refused to accept it when Amber showed up," Wilson snapped. "He took a bus instead and Amber just wanted to make sure he got home safe."

"Wasn't that her choice?" Gordon wondered.

"Are you saying she should blame herself for dying?" Wilson was getting aggressive.

"Goodness me no," Gordon exclaimed. "Not at all. I'm just trying to ascertain if there is any reasonable cause to distribute any blame at all. I understand that after something like this people feel guilty and that is perfectly natural. But since all reports clearly state it was an accident I don't see how anyone could be blamed."

"He is probably blaming me more for not saving her than for putting her in harm's way." House sighed.

"But you're just a doctor," Gordon pointed out. "He knows as well as you do that being a doctor is not the same as being a healer. Most patients get well in spite of their doctors not because of them. You have an awesome reputation, House, but even you do not perform miracles. You diagnose people and if there is a treatment or a cure then your patients are fine. But sometimes there is no cure or it is too late. You diagnosed Miss Volakis, and there was nothing anyone could do after that. From what I read in her medical files she was dead before she reached this hospital."

"He could have found her sooner," Wilson injected.

"How?" Gordon asked. "He had amnesia. He nearly killed himself trying to remember her, if what Dr Cuddy told me is right. And I have no reason to doubt her. House did everything he could."

"Why are you trying to make this my fault," Wilson demanded.

"I'm not," Gordon said. "I just wish to ascertain your position. To investigate your reasons for feeling the way you do. Just to properly scrutinize the starting point for the search for the underlying problem."

"In other words you want to find out if he has reasons for his feelings," House scoffed.

"Oh, he absolutely has reasons for his feelings," Gordon maintained. "I just wish to find out what they are."

"Then why do I feel picked upon?" Wilson queried.

"You do?" Gordon seemed surprised. "I'm sorry, that was not my intention. I do sometimes come on too strong, I think that is the phrase, possibly due to getting too interested in the puzzle. That is a failing with me. I get too interested in the puzzle of human condition. Perhaps we need a break. Let me make some tea for us and then we can go on. I'll try to find a more genial way of approaching this problem you and House have."

Gordon got up and went to the little kitchenette at the side of the room. Wilson noticed only now that in addition to the normal coffee making things there was also a tea set placed there. House finally deigned to come and sit at the table.

"So you're an Englishman," Wilson decided to try for small talk.

"The tea gave me away?" Gordon asked with a slightly mocking smile. "And here I was thinking that I had acclimatised so well."

"The accent is a dead giveaway as well," House observed dryly.

"Well, trying to lose it at my age would be rather, now how should I put it, rather pretentious, I think," Gordon shrugged as he waited for the kettle.

"Your nose looks like you've been in a fight," Wilson mused. "I assume it must have been in your youth. You don't look like you'd want to resolve things through physical confrontations now."

"Didn't even in my youth," Gordon replied as he prepared the tea. "I had a confrontation with a side of a mountain when I was seventeen. This (he tapped his nose) is the only souvenir from that."

"I'm surprised you haven't had it fixed," Wilson wondered.

"I don't think it needs fixing," Gordon laughed. "Though I have lost count of the plastic surgeons who have told me they could do it for me. No, I've had it a long time. I see no reason to lose it now. Besides, it's a healthy reminder."

"Not to go mountain climbing?" House ventured.

"Not to go mountain climbing alone," Gordon gave House a significant look – one Wilson couldn't quite interpret. "Had I been alone that time, I wouldn't be here now."

"A friend stopped you from getting injured worse?" Wilson guessed.

"Oh no, I was injured a lot worse than just my nose," Gordon explained as he brought the tea to that table and sat down. "If it wasn't for my friend who got me to hospital in time, and the doctor in the hospital, I truly would not be here now."

"Ok, so now we know one should not go mountain climbing alone," House didn't seem to be too interested in the anecdotes. "Are we through wasting time?"

Gordon set a cup of tea in front of him – and then Wilson – and pushed milk and sugar towards them. "I'm fine with wasting time if Dr Wilson isn't ready to talk about why he wants to walk away from you and your friendship."

"I have the right to walk away from him," Wilson snapped.

"Absolutely you do," Gordon agreed amicably. "I'm just interested in finding out why."

"He knows that it will hurt me," House stated quietly.

"Nothing hurts you!" Wilson exclaimed earning a startled glance from Gordon.

"Surely that is not true," Gordon suggested.

"I'm not talking about physical pain," Wilson scoffed. "I'm talking about feelings. He doesn't have any. No matter what happens he just shrugs it off like water of a duck's back. A patient dies, so what. Tomorrow is another day and another patient. A friend gets his life screwed up because of him. Well, none of his business. If I walk away he will hate the change because he just hates any change but he will not be hurt. He is incapable of hurting. I want out of here." Wilson got up from the table.

"You better let him go," House sighed staring at the floor. It was difficult to say what he was feeling if anything.

"The door is locked," Gordon pointed out.

"Don't try to tell me Cuddy didn't give you the key," House glanced at Gordon. "She didn't lock the door to keep Wilson in, but me. And as Wilson said, he has the right to walk away from me."

"This isn't helping finding a resolution to the situation between the two of you," Gordon reminded them.

"Right now he doesn't want one," House said. "And I'm sure you know that you can lead a horse to the water but…"

"Yes, I agree," Gordon nodded. "Are you really sure Dr Wilson that you want to go?"

"Yes!" Wilson stated as he walked to the door.

"Fine," Gordon sighed and got up to open the door. "You do know that you have a lot of unresolved issues that you really need to work on before you make any final decisions about changing your life."

"I'll think about them," Was all Wilson was willing to admit.

"Fair enough," Gordon accepted as he took the key from his pocket and opened the door. "I will be seeing you again Dr Wilson," he warned as Wilson walked out.

"You might get more co-operation from him if you see him alone next time," House stated as he took a sip from his tea.

"Probably," Gordon said as he closed the door – not locking it again. "So have you learned to like tea?"

"No," House shook his head. "I still hate it."

"Then why are you drinking it?" Gordon asked with a smile that sort of revealed that he knew what the answer was going to be.

"Sometimes a man's got to do what a man's got to do," House smiled back taking another sip.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thank you all for your reviews! It's nice to know what you think of my story._

**Tea for two and two for tea**

"Did you tell Cuddy?" House asked Gordon as he sat back down at the table and took his tea.

"Dr Cuddy sounded rather agitated when she called me," Gordon shrugged. "I didn't think she would have welcomed that piece of information right then. So I decided that it was best to come here and assess the situation before I decided if I was ineligible."

"So what do you want from me to not to tell her?" House inquired.

"That, - exactly that," Gordon gestured with his hand towards House. "That is why I liked you some thirty years ago though you were only fourteen to my seventeen. You always had such a different take on things."

"I know I see things differently," House frowned. "But I'd still like an answer."

"Every other person I know would think** I** owe them because they saved my life," Gordon smiled. "**You** think I have something on you, because you saved my life. Don't worry; I'm not going to tell anyone about that since I know you don't want people to know."

"Except you do have to tell Wilson if he agrees to see you again," House sighed. "It wouldn't be fair not to tell him. Mind you, you don't need to tell him anything other than that it was you; he knows the basics."

"Really?" Gordon was surprised. "He must be a good friend then for you to bare your soul to him to that extent."

"I didn't really," House sipped his tea a little uncomfortably. "I had a patient and the only way to get his family history was to interview his father and the father wouldn't tell me anything unless I told him something in return. He wanted to know why I decided to become a doctor so I told him. Wilson was there too."

"My guess would be though that you didn't tell them how badly injured I was and that you actually carried me down the mountain," Gordon surmised.

"There was no need," House shrugged. "It wasn't what happened on the mountain that made me decide on medicine."

"You really don't think you did anything out of the ordinary there, do you?" Gordon asked.

"When you go mountain climbing with someone the small print pretty much says that you agree to make sure you both come home," House stated dismissively. "If at all possible."

"No thanks are to be expected for doing the right thing," Gordon proclaimed with pomposity. He relaxed and sighed: "God but I hated your father then and I still hate him."

"He had nothing to do with you," House pointed out mildly.

"True, my apologies," Gordon accepted. "But you never did let me thank you," he said extending his hand to House.

House stared at the hand for a moment. He looked almost suspicious but eventually he seemed to decide that he wasn't facing deathly peril so he slowly extended his own hand and allowed Gordon to clasp it. After a brief, but meaningful moment House extracted his hand and said: "Ok, no need to make a song and dance about it."

"No, no. No. That wouldn't be manly at all," Gordon agreed nestling his cup in both his hands and taking a sip of tea.

"So, psychiatry," House asked.

"Yes," Gordon nodded. "It's a great way to satisfy my curiosity about human beings. Not to mention that it's a very good way of earning a steady income. Nobody is ever really cured."

"Seems that we have that in common then," House smiled. "I'm not interested in cures either, just the diagnosis. Of course, the difference is that I can't wait to see the back of them."

"I know," Gordon stated. "I have followed your career. Actually, it's a little difficult to be a doctor and not follow the career of one Greg House. You provide an endless fountain of anecdotes and awesome medical stories at conferences. Sometimes it's almost impossible to tell that they are indeed talking about a flesh and blood man. The stories tend to paint you half god, half demon."

"That's me," House accepted modestly.

"House!" Cuddy's voice came from the corridor outside the room – loud and clear.

"And **that** is Satan," House grimaced and braced himself.

"Dr Wyatt," Cuddy called as she pushed the door open. "Where is…. House! You're here!"

"You brought me here yourself," House reminded her with innocence.

"But I saw Wilson on his way to his office just now!" Cuddy wondered.

"I'm afraid Dr Wilson was not ready for, how did you put it, couples counselling," Gordon apologised. "So I allowed him to leave and decided to have a nice cup of tea with just Dr House."

"Nice cup of tea…" Cuddy repeated almost stunned. "House, what are you up to this time?"

"Cuddy!" House sounded offended. "No need to sound so suspicious just because I'm drinking tea with Gordon Gordon!"

"House," Cuddy warned him. "Dr Wyatt is here at my invitation, would you mind very much to behave?"

"I am behaving," House insisted.

"Please, House," Cuddy pleaded. "Show some respect. He is here to help you with Wilson."

"I'm not going to call him Dr Wyatt and then bare my soul to him," House scoffed.

"I'm fairly sure calling me Gordon Gordon won't make you any more inclined to bare your soul to me either," Gordon pointed out.

"True," House admitted. "But calling you by your name is still not disrespectful."

"And I am perfectly capable of defending myself when I see the need," Gordon mentioned.

"You don't mind him calling you Gordon… Gordon?" Cuddy wanted to be quite sure.

"It is his name," House inserted.

"It is my name," Gordon confirmed.

"Gordon Gordon?" Cuddy repeated.

"Yes, same first and middle names," Gordon confirmed gently.

"Oh, I…" Cuddy was lost for words. She felt like a total idiot though she couldn't possibly have known that the G in Gordon G. Wyatt stood for another Gordon. She just hoped she wasn't the one who had ended up offending him.

"Now you understand why he ended up as a shrink," House explained as he pulled a chair for Cuddy and gave her his cup of tea – which was still mostly full.

"House," Cuddy admonished him weakly as she took a sip.

"No, no. No need to worry," Gordon reassured her. "I'm quite used to having people react in various ways to my name. It is actually quite interesting and tells quite a lot about people. And you have nothing to be ashamed of Dr Cuddy."

"Lisa," Cuddy invited. "Since we seem to have advanced to first names anyway."

"Oh, I haven't dared to call Gregory by his first name yet," Gordon insisted.

"You just did," House noted dryly.

"Oh, dear. So I did," Gordon replied with fake innocence.

"Do you two know each other?" Cuddy had recovered enough to sense the vibes flying in the room.

"Oops," Gordon said almost apologetically.

"Not really," House bluffed. "We met some 35 years ago or so. And it has been over 30 years we last saw each other. Nothing really special there, just an amusing coincidence."

"Did Wilson find it amusing?" Cuddy asked and somehow she managed to make the act of sipping tea look menacing.

"It didn't come up with him yet," Gordon revealed complacently. "I will mention it the next time I meet him."

"You are going to go on helping with this situation?" Cuddy asked almost anxiously.

"I will talk with Dr Wilson again," Gordon promised cautiously. "But if he doesn't want to see me after that I can hardly force him. But I can give you a list of psychiatrists and counsellors and I'm sure you'll find someone to replace me if necessary."

"I'm not sure I care to find someone else," House muttered.

"I don't really care if you care," Cuddy snapped setting down the cup and getting up. "I don't want to lose my best doctors nor my friends so you'll just put up with the counselling and that's that."

"I hate to point this out," Gordon inserted. "But forced therapy has never been known to work."

"Right now I don't care about that either," Cuddy sighed as she walked towards the door. "Right now I'll try anything." Then she walked out.

"You two are really important to her," Gordon observed.

"She likes Wilson," House shrugged. "And she thinks she can make a good doctor out of me if she can force me to do enough clinic duty."

"Why would she want you to be good when you're already excellent?" Gordon wondered.

"You're right," House corrected his statement. "She expects me to become a nice doctor, more human with more human contact."

"So she wants you to be more human," Gordon repeated musingly. "Yet, apparently, she has found you human enough to have carnal relations with you at one time or another."

"How…." House stared at Gordon. Surely nobody knew about….

"Your tea," Gordon nodded towards the cup Cuddy had put back on the table. "The way she accepted it from you and drank from it. Even good friends rarely share drinking vessels quite that naturally. It isn't just bashfulness that made the writers of the Bible use the word _know_ as a substitute for carnal relations."

"It was a long time ago," House saw no point in trying to deny it. "Before she became my boss. Nothing like that going on these days."

"Fine. None of my business really," Gordon nodded. "Just wanted to satisfy my curiosity."

"You always were curious," House smiled. "That was what I liked about you when you were seventeen. Most guys your age seemed to think they already knew everything. You were still as curious about everything as I was."

"And once learned more than you wanted," Gordon replied in cautious tone.

"As I said: nothing to do with you," House closed the subject standing up and turning to leave. "I still have clinic duty for today. Might as well go and get it over with."

"Won't you let me help," Gordon asked quietly.

House was already at the door but he paused. He could have pretended to misunderstand, but decided there was no point. He knew Gordon was talking about the past and what it had done to him. House turned his head towards Gordon: "What would be the point?" he asked blandly. "I am what I am. Too much time has passed."

"I know you are what you are, and there is no need to change that. I just want to help you change how you feel about it," Gordon offered.

"Feel?" House raised an eyebrow and gave Gordon a lopsided smile. He didn't need to elaborate.

"Ok," Gordon had no choice but to accept defeat. "But you will let me help you with this," Gordon made a gesture with his hand that seemed to encompass the hospital and somehow Wilson, too.

"Yes," House smiled. "I rather think I'll have to."

"You do owe me, you know," Gordon told him with mischief in his eyes.

"Absolutely," House agreed and then he walked out of the room.

Gordon finished his tea in deep thought. Once his cup was empty he put the tea set on the side table and walked out of the room still thinking on his next move. It was probably best to just go and confront James Wilson right away. Lisa had not been sure how many times Wilson would come to the hospital again before his leave officially started. Gordon walked to the lifts, rode to the floor where Wilson's office was and walked to the door. He paused for a moment to consider, but then he just opened the door and walked in.

"Dr Wyatt!" Wilson stopped in his packing to exclaim in surprise. "I thought we were done."

"I believe I told you that I would see you again," Gordon reminded him. "I only agreed with Gregory that we couldn't keep you in the same room with him against your will."

"And now you have come here alone to do what?" Wilson asked sounding exasperated. "To force me to stay here?"

"Force has never been my forte," Gordon denied as he sauntered in and settled on the one free spot there still was on the couch. "But your friends worry about you and I did promise them to try and see if I can help."

"My girlfriend died," Wilson blurted. "I need to get away from here; I need something different."

"Your friends seem to think you need more time to make decisions like that," Gordon pondered. "How does that make you feel?"

"What do you think!" Wilson snapped at him. "I told House that I want a change of scenery and he told me to buy a plant."

"You don't think he has a point?" Gordon queried. "As an oncologist you have seen many times how people react to grief, you must also know that a change of venue will not change your feelings."

"Why is everyone insisting on treating my grief like it was a cliché?" Wilson griped.

"Cliché," Gordon considered. "Yes, that does sound a lot like grief. Cliché: hackneyed, trite, something that has become overly familiar or commonplace. In fact," Gordon got up and dug into his pockets until he came up with ten dollar bill that he set on the table in front of Wilson. "I believe that is the going rate for grief in this hospital."

"What…" Wilson stared at the money in shock.

"Am I wrong?" Gordon asked with mild curiosity. "Isn't that how much Dr House pays you every time a patient thanks you for telling them they are dying? Or didn't Dr Volakis thank you?"

"How dare…" Wilson was still lost for words but his eyes started to flash with anger.

"Come now," Gordon admonished him gently. "Are you telling me that you believe that your grief is more important or more meaningful in the grand scheme of things than the grief felt by the loved ones of all of your patients who have died?" Gordon made a dismissive sound. "That though you have had no problem in delivering the fatal message to your patient and then swaggering to House to collect your money and to brag how you got thanked again, you still think your grief is something special."

Wilson sat down stunned in his chair. He could not dispute Gordon's words nor was he able to really find a defence. "I didn't know," Wilson tried to stutter. "I do care about my patients and I do try to be compassionate. But I see so much death, I… It's just a coping mechanism."

"Of course it is," Gordon exclaimed in agreement. "After all death is something rather commonplace in a hospital."

"A cliché," Wilson muttered.

"Exactly!" Gordon nodded. "But just because it's a cliché, does not mean it is any less real or any less painful. Your friends do know that."

"I have been wrapped up in myself," Wilson sighed. "Is that what you are trying to make me see?"

"A little," Gordon confirmed. "I'm not saying you don't have the right to be self-absorbed, but you also need to understand that your friends really do want to help. This is too early for you to make very drastic decisions. Listen to your friends and take some time to make sure you know what you want."

"Maybe you're right," Wilson accepted. "Maybe Cuddy is right and I better take just the month she has offered and then see where I am."

"Excellent idea," Gordon beamed in approval. "Now, will you agree to that _couples counselling_ Dr Cuddy wants for you and House? You do know that there are issues you two need to deal with in regards of the accident and all that happened around it."

"You do seem rather eager to help us," Wilson wondered. "Cuddy must have promised you some reward!"

"I'm doing this for free," Gordon stated. "I owe House."

"You know him?" Wilson was surprised. "But you're a psychiatrist!"

"I wasn't when we met," Gordon pointed out. "I was just a seventeen year old lad and he was fourteen. We met in Japan."

"Japan?" Wilson frowned.

"Yes, Japan," Gordon confirmed tapping his nose. Wilson's eyes went wide with realisation.

"House was the friend!" Wilson gasped. "He… You were the friend he mentioned … You are the reason why he became a doctor!"

"No," Gordon corrected. "I just happened to lead him to the reason. Pure coincidence."

"Like Cuddy calling you?" Wilson sounded a little suspicious.

"I am the best in my field," Gordon stated simply.

"Now who the heck does that remind me off," Wilson sighed. "Yeah I'll be ok with the _couples counselling_. At least I'm willing to try."

"Good," Gordon approved. "Now I'll leave you to your packing and we'll see tomorrow again."


	11. Chapter 11

_Thank you for the reviews!_

_And Nikelodeon: thanks for catching "Geoffrey"; Severus: Yeah, I think you're right. They do tend to be very "reasonable". Could be because I write fanfic to figure out the characters and how they would react in different situations. Or then, it's just me. :)_

**You could tell me a lot**** but it's not / In a gentleman's code**

Gordon made his way downstairs and into Cuddy's office. He knocked on the door and waited for Cuddy to look towards the door and gesture for him to enter; this she did immediately though she was already talking with someone.

"Come in Dr Wyatt," Cuddy invited.

"I thought we agreed on first names," Gordon reminded her as he walked in.

"So we did," Cuddy nodded. "This is Dr Chase though. He is…"

"The son of Rowan Chase and former fellow of House's," Gordon finished. "And the head of surgery now." He shook hands with Chase. "I knew your father, though only slightly so he probably never mentioned it."

"No, I'm sure he didn't," Chase responded. "I would remember. You are rather famous."

"Yes, I do enjoy certain amount of fame," Gordon mused. "And unlike your former boss I don't eschew public speaking and conferences."

"Well, there really is room for only one House in the world," Chase observed dryly.

"Some would add _fortunately_ to that," Gordon smiled.

Before Chase had a chance to comment the door opened again and House barged in – without knocking.

"So, what did he say?" House asked without any niceties.

"Do come in House, why don't you," Cuddy sighed.

"Don't act like I interrupted anything important," House scoffed. "It's just Gordon Gordon and Chase."

"You know, Gregory," Gordon mused. "I am quite aware of your reputation; you don't really need to give me a demonstration."

"This isn't a demonstration," Cuddy remarked dryly. "This is how he is all the time."

"Gregory?" Chase asked House.

"He is British, like you," House dismissed it.

"I'm Australian," Chase corrected him. "Gregory."

House swatted Chase on the back of his head though gently. Chase laughed. "I'll come back later Dr Cuddy," Chase said as he made his way out of the room. "Nice meeting you Dr Wyatt."

"Nice young man," Gordon said. "Hard to believe Rowan Chase was his father."

"You wouldn't have said that couple of years ago," House told Gordon. "But enough of Chase. How did your talk go with Wilson?"

"Though I deplore House's manners," Cuddy had to admit. "I too would like to know if Dr Wilson agreed to talk with you."

"Yes," Gordon answered simply. "We are having the next meeting tomorrow."

"Great," House enthused. "Now Cuddy, you really have to release me from clinic duty for the duration."

"I'm sure Gordon does not expect you to be there all day," Cuddy pointed out. "So you will still have plenty of time to do your clinic duty as well."

"But Mommy!" House whined. "I'll be too distracted. What if I misdiagnose someone because of it?"

"How could you misdiagnose anyone when you keep telling me that a monkey with a bottle of Motrin could replace you?" Cuddy wanted to know.

"Forgive me if I'm interfering here," Gordon smiled. "But would you like some counselling yourself, Lisa? I mean you and Gregory here. It seems your relationship with him is at least as complicated as Dr Wilson's."

"Thank you for the offer," Cuddy looked a bit defeated. "But I think we're beyond help already."

"Oh dear! What a pessimistic way to look at things," Gordon exclaimed. "Nobody is beyond help. Sure, sometimes there isn't much that can be done, but there is always something."

"Stop drumming up business for yourself Gordon," House instructed him. "What time tomorrow?"

"Same time, same place as today," Gordon answered.

"Ok," House nodded. "I'll be there." He turned and left as abruptly as he had entered.

"Is he really always like this?" Gordon wanted to know.

"Unfortunately," Cuddy admitted. "Fortunately he really is as brilliant as his reputation claims. I wish I … Never mind. Now, you think you really can help them?"

"As I said, everybody can be helped," Gordon reminded her. "But how much I can help them depends on them. If they refuse to be helped then that's it."

"Ok," Cuddy nodded. "You will have your work cut out for you with them."

"Fortunately I like challenges," Gordon smiled. "Now I better leave you to your administrative duties and toddle off till tomorrow. See you then, Lisa."

"See you then Gordon," Lisa agreed. "You will keep me posted."

"No, I'm afraid I won't," Gordon replied as he opened the door. "I will tell you if it isn't working and you need to find someone else, but all else will remain confidential." With that he left before Cuddy could say anything.

Gordon made his way to the clinic to have one final word with House before leaving for the day. He found House in the examination room three. He was alone and apparently trying to take a nap.

"Hmmm… It seems that the monkey wouldn't even need the bottle of Motrin to be able to replace you," Gordon observed.

House opened one eye to check that Gordon was alone before he closed his eye again: "That is exactly why I don't get why Cuddy wants me to work here."

"Well I rather think the operative word there was _work_," Gordon pointed out. "And that is something you are most definitely not doing right now."

"The mind is working," House opened his eyes and gave a wide-eyed stare to Gordon.

"So I see," Gordon concurred. "Just wondering what it might be working on. Or do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," House smiled. "So why did you want to see me? Before tomorrow that is."

"I feel I have to warn you, Gregory." Gordon spoke seriously.

"What about?" House looked apprehensive.

"If you really want to help Wilson and want to work things out between you two, you have to share," Gordon stated seriously.

"Share?" House looked puzzled. "Share what?"

"Whatever he needs you to," Gordon responded. "Neither I nor you can know what that may be. Are you ready to do that?"

House settled on his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. "I once had a patient… or not really a patient since there was nothing to diagnose. She had been raped and she refused to talk to anyone but me. Talk about bad choices!"

"Didn't you refer her to a psychiatrist?" Gordon prompted.

"Yes," House nodded. "She tried to kill herself."

"After the referral?" Gordon wanted to be sure.

"Yep," House confirmed. "She wanted to talk to me."

"And you did," Gordon decided. "You're really not supposed to do that. When a patient starts to manipulate you you're supposed to stop it."

"I'm aware of that," House agreed. "Yet who could really blame her. It's one thing to have a textbook case in the textbook but when she stares you in the face… She had a point. If we wanted to help her then it should happen on her terms and if she needed to keep me prisoner, then I suppose she had the right. It's not like she was really doing anything to me other than force me to form some kind of a connection with her."

"But you hated it nevertheless," Gordon stated.

"Of course," House shrugged as he sat up. "She took control away from me. Sure, it was more a case of getting Cuddy do it for her, and I could have just left her to the not that capable care of the shrinks, but in the end I did feel responsible for her because I figured out what had happened. She hadn't wanted to tell me or anyone what had happened to her. She wouldn't have even come to the clinic had she not contracted an STD from it as well."

"As well as what?" Gordon was pretty good at figuring things out, too.

"She was pregnant," House said. "Though it was Cuddy who figured that one out."

"That could not have been easy," Gordon mused.

"It did complicate things a little," House replied. "Anyway, the long and the short was that she was not going to let me _go_, in a manner of speaking, before we had had a talk, but she wasn't willing to talk to me about what had happened to her unless I shared… Unless I shared."

"Ah," Gordon comprehended. "And you did. Is she the only one you have ever told?"

"Yes," House divulged. "Though there are couple of people, like you, who figured it out at the time. However, what I was trying to say is that if I was willing to share** that** with a stranger when she needed it, I can surely share whatever my friend needs me to share. Maybe not gladly, but I will share."

"Ok," Gordon accepted. "That will make my job easier."

"Was that it?" House asked. "Can I get on with my nap now?"

"Oh, yes," Gordon granted. "Carry on." And he walked out of the room closing the door behind him.

_Cased in Amber Cased in Amber_

The next day Wilson was the last to arrive to the meeting. House was actually starting to feel impatient, but then again, that was his usual state of mind.

"There you are," House exclaimed when Wilson walked in.

"Yes, here I am, exactly on time," Wilson stated as he sat down.

"So true," Gordon concurred. "Now shall we get down to business, as the saying goes?"

"Go ahead," House invited. "Though I'm happy to just sit here as long as I don't need to do any clinic duty."

"You didn't seem that happy a minute ago," Gordon observed.

"That was because I was afraid that Wilson had chickened out," House explained. "And since Cuddy told me to report to the clinic as soon as this was over, that wasn't good news."

"Again, it's all about you," Wilson sighed. "You do know that the world does not revolve around you."

"Yes," House accepted. "I do know that. It's only my own world that revolves around me. Everybody's does."

"He has a point," Gordon conceded. "Isn't that one of the reasons you currently resent him? Because you believe he doesn't take your point of view into consideration enough?"

"He doesn't even see my point of view at all," Wilson scoffed. "Let alone consider it."

"Are you quite sure?" Gordon wanted to know.

"Everything is always about him," Wilson insisted. "Even now he doesn't care about what I'm going through. He just wants to know how this affects him."

"I care," House exclaimed. "I just think you are making bad decisions."

"You don't give a damn about Amber!" Wilson yelled.

"Amber is dead," House stated. "I'm sorry that she is dead, but other than that there is no point in dwelling on her. Only on how her death affects you; and her death is making you behave irrationally."

"Surely that is understandable?" Gordon asked.

"I understand it," House sighed. "I just don't get it why he can't see it and why he can't listen to his friends. Even if he isn't willing to listen to me, why isn't he accepting Cuddy's advice?"

"You don't think you behaviour is irrational?" Gordon turned to Wilson.

"What's so irrational about wanting a change of venue?" Wilson shrugged. "I need something to occupy my mind, something that… I don't know. I need something different. Something that helps me live with the pain."

"Usually it is friends who help with the pain," Gordon mused. "But I suppose that when you blame your best friend for the pain, it could be difficult. But you have observed grief from close quarters several times in your profession, don't you think your reaction is rather typical and possibly rather futile?"

"It feels right so why would it be futile?" Wilson defied. "Or are you just trying to work House's agenda here?"

"No, I don't have agendas when it comes to therapy," Gordon said seriously. "But if you feel you can't trust me, then Dr Cuddy needs to find someone else to help you."

"He does trust you," House insisted.

"_He_ can speak for himself," Gordon pointed out.

"I'm sorry," Wilson replied. "I don't really doubt you; your reputation is quite stellar. I don't know what got into me."

"Hmmm…." Gordon seemed to ponder something for a moment. "Perhaps we ought to forget the couples counselling for a moment and you, Dr Wilson, and I will have a few sessions without House so that you will learn to know me better and then we may proceed with better understanding on the couples counselling?"

"Wait a minute!" House huffed. "Are you throwing me out of here! When the whole point is to fix things between me and Wilson."

"Yes, I am throwing you out," Gordon confirmed gently. "I believe that is the best course of action and you will just have to accept it."

"Fine," House grumbled after a minute. "But you will keep me posted on what is going on."

"No," Gordon stated. "I will not. I already told Dr Cuddy that what is meant to be confidential will remain confidential."

"It would be better if you just agreed," House almost warned him. "I will get what I want one way or the other."

"He usually does," Wilson inserted. "He has been known to break into patients confidential records even."

"That does not surprise me at all," Gordon confessed. "But he won't get anything from me regardless of his methods. I don't intend to keep records of these meetings."

"But aren't you required to do so?" Wilson was curious.

"Yes, I am," Gordon nodded. "And I do. But not quite in the usual way. I have photographic memory, you see."

"I thought you had grown out of that!" House wasn't happy. "I suppose you write your notes then you read them and then destroy?"

"With the really confidential cases, yes," Gordon verified.

"So whatever I tell you, he can't find out?" Wilson wanted to know.

"Not without bugging the place or hearing it from you," Gordon maintained. "I can't very well promise not to – now what was that phrase, oh yes – promise not to rat on him to you and then just turn around and rat on you to him. Now can I?"

"Sure you can," House insisted heartily. "It's done all the time!"

"But it would not be British," Gordon smiled.

"Rats!" House spat out, but he got his cane and limped to the door. "So, how many times do you reckon little Jimmy needs his hand held before we'll have another session together."

"I can't know right now," Gordon insisted. "But I will let you know."

There was nothing that House could say to that, so grumpily he limped out of the room leaving Gordon and Wilson alone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Is now the time that you ****realize you'd better get out quick?**

Once House had stormed out of the room Gordon turned his eyes towards Wilson. Wilson wasn't sure he liked being the recipient of Gordon's frank stare; the eyes just seemed to see too much. There was something in them that actually reminded Wilson of House – or at least of House at his best. Those few times when House seemed to see all and understand all and even have compassion for his fellow human beings; the House that had been missing in action for quite some time.

"So, why don't we start from the end," Gordon settled in his chair as if he was willing to listen to Wilson for as long as necessary. "How do you feel about House now? How do you see him as a person?"

"He killed my girlfriend," Wilson huffed. "What do you think I feel?"

"What I think you feel or should feel may well be something altogether different than what you actually do feel," Gordon insisted. "So I'd much rather hear it from you."

"Are you sure?" Wilson challenged. "You told me you owe him your life, even if you didn't use exactly those words. Do you really want to hear what I think of him right now?"

"He doesn't think I owe him anything," Gordon mused. "Though that does not mean I necessarily agree with him. But if I owe him anything… I owe him the truth. Granted, it's a rare commodity and often impossible to obtain but I need to try to get to it or as close to it as I can. And I can't do it if you lie to me either outright or by omission. I owe him my objectivity and the closest thing to the truth that I can get. Tell me how you feel about Gregory House. And I do mean how you feel, not what your reason may tell you you ought to feel. Just tell me. You won't hurt my feelings."

"It's not going to be what you want to hear," Wilson felt compelled to warn Gordon. "House is not what you think he is."

"I may have been Gregory's friend some 30 years ago, but I can still make an educated guess – and in my case I really mean an educated guess – of what he is today based on what I knew then and what I have heard of him since," Gordon insisted. "I want to hear whatever it is you have to say."

"He's poison," Wilson stated blandly. "And I hate him. That is what I feel. It's not anger. I plain hate him. Nobody is better off for having known Greg House. If he died tomorrow nobody would miss him. Yes, some would miss his skills as a doctor but that is all. He makes everyone miserable. He destroys everything good in his life and in the lives that touch him. He's a drug addict and he cons you into being his enabler. He can charm the birds from the trees if he so decides but usually he doesn't even care to do that. He is a black hole that mesmerises you into falling in and then he sucks you dry. There is nothing good about him anymore. He is a taker. He lies, cheats, manipulates people and situations to his own advantage and he doesn't even have a good reason for it most of the time. He just wants to see how many people he can fool at any given time and how many times he can fool them. Well not me. Not anymore. I'm done with him."

Wilson stood up agitatedly. He couldn't just sit anymore. His voice got harder and he was speaking faster and he started to pace. He didn't look at Gordon; he looked down and around and he even stared up at the ceiling but he didn't look at Gordon. It almost seemed like he didn't care who heard him. The gates were open and everything just flooded out.

"He has almost cost me my career at least twice," Wilson went on. "Both times Cuddy saved his sorry ass and by extension I got off the hook as well. But House didn't care. He cost this hospital a 100 million bucks and he didn't care. He had what he wanted and he didn't even care let alone feel guilty. Same the next time when he angered a cop and ended up being investigated for drug trafficking. I was the one who got burned just because I decided to help him. My bank accounts got frozen my car was taken my medical licence was suspended but did House care? No! Not in the least. He blamed the cop! I got him a deal, a good one. All he needed to do was to go to rehab, basically, but what did he do? He refused! He needed to go to rehab anyway – and in the end he actually did go, though even there… never mind. It didn't work anyway. But no matter what was happening to people around him – I wasn't the only one affected, his team got their bank accounts frozen as well – he just refused to compromise. He always refuses to compromise. Everything has to go his way or it's not going to happen. I have tried. I have tried to teach him humility. I have tried to get him to rehab. I have tried to talk him into finding some other ways to deal with his pain than Vicodin but does he listen? No! He just doesn't care."

Wilson sat back down again. He was feeling exhausted. The emotions were taking their toll and he wasn't even half-way done yet.

"He is like a cancer gnawing at my insides," Wilson's voice was already getting hoarse. "He drains my energy and though I want to I don't have the energy to fight him. He always draws me back into his life at the expense of my own. Amber was the first person in a very long time who got me out of that place, the only one who was a strong enough counter-influence to House. Did I mention her speciality was radiology? Fitting, don't you think? Anyway, that is academic now. House killed her. And though I'm sure he didn't mean to kill her I am sure he called her to jerk her chain. To somehow rub it in that when he calls I come running!"

"Do you?" Gordon asked quietly just as a prompt making sure he didn't actually throw Wilson off his tirade. It was quite clear that this was something Wilson had to get off his chest.

"I did," Wilson growled. "That was what caused my divorces. My wives hated House, hated how he always got me away from them. Sure, I got called away a lot otherwise too, being a doctor, but they always knew when it was House and not the hospital. House has insinuated himself into pretty much every aspect of my life and taken over. I used to have friends, I mean real friends not just people I know and have dinner with sometimes. Friends that were really part of my life. Not anymore. House is it. All I had before Amber was my job and House and more than once he put both of those things in jeopardy for no good reason. I can't even count the times he has risked his life to satisfy his curiosity about something or just out of sheer stupidity. Do you know he actually faked cancer once? Not to me, I found out about it by accident, but even then he didn't tell me he was faking it. Oh no, he was afraid that I would tell the nice doctors in Boston that he didn't need that cool new drug they were going to insert into his brain. I tried to put him on antidepressants after that, he was actually happy for a few weeks then, but did he accept the benefits when he found out? No! Not even close. He claimed they made him hazy. He didn't care that they had made life a little easier for him and especially for people around him. He just loves his misery and he loves dragging everyone down with him. And that's not even half of what he does to Cuddy. The troubles he has caused her – and she always forgives him. I don't understand why she hasn't fired him several times over. And he invades her personal life with impunity too! He monitors her dates! He has actually broken into her house – though, ok, that time it was for medical reasons, but she is his boss he should have asked for permission. She wanted a child and tried to get pregnant by IVF and he actually found out who the donors were and told her she wouldn't want to get pregnant by an idiot! And then he told her that it was a good thing she hadn't got pregnant because she would make a lousy mother. It takes a lot to make Cuddy cry but… He had no right to do that. He makes everyone miserable. He is even interfering between Cameron and Chase and he isn't even doing anything. It's just that he had them for three years and they can't shake him. Or maybe Chase can, he seems to be ok. But Cameron is still hung up on House."

"Did they have an affair or something?" Gordon inserted again lightly.

"God no," Wilson scoffed. "To go there House would actually have needed to make an effort. Granted only for a short time but he wasn't willing to shift himself even that much. Fortunately, as it turned out though I didn't think so at the time. I actually encouraged him to explore a relationship with her. And I even warned Cameron to be gentle with him! Can you believe that? I was so deluded that I thought House might be the one who could get hurt! Well, he sabotaged that opportunity but even so he managed to keep Cameron worshiping him from afar. Just every now and then he appeared to give a damn about a patient or a person and make her believe that he has a soul or a heart. He doesn't have either. If he ever had them they cut it out with the thigh muscle they removed after the infarction. He hasn't had a soul for years. People just don't want to see it. They don't want to believe that a doctor could really be as heartless as House is."

"And it's all pretence?" Gordon queried softly.

"He doesn't bother to pretend even," Wilson nearly laughed. "It's all in the eyes of the beholder. I suppose I shouldn't blame him for our own illusions but he knows that he has people fooled and he takes advantage of that. Especially Cuddy! She protects him like he was something special and she even puts her own job in jeopardy for him. She shouldn't. Yes, House is a genius and an amazingly good at diagnostics, but he will kill himself soon enough so there is no point in protecting him. She needs to find a way to diagnose patients without him then anyway, why not do it now when she can prepare for it. She has three of his old fellows working in the hospital now! Surely they can work together to diagnose at least as well as House does."

"Are you going to suggest that course of action to Dr Cuddy?" Gordon wanted to know. "I mean if you worry about his influence in her life as well, that would be the logical thing to do."

"Like she would listen to me," Wilson rolled his eyes. "She still believes in him. Or it could be just guilt, I'm not sure. She was after all the doctor in charge when his leg was operated on."

"Did something go wrong with the operation?" Gordon went on inserting questions.

"No," Wilson sighed. "He didn't want the surgery. They had already removed the clot and House wanted to just wait. The pain was so bad that he asked to be put into coma for a couple of days. When he was under his girlfriend, who was also his medical proxy, authorised the operation and saved his life. He wasn't grateful."

"Yes, I have rather gathered that you don't see gratitude as House's strongest suit," Gordon observed.

"I'm not sure he can even spell the word," Wilson said. He sounded defeated.

"Well, I'm sure you could go on with your story, but I think I got the gist of it and you sound rather drained," Gordon stated. "Why don't I make us some tea before we talk more. Or would you prefer coffee? I have to warn you though; I've been told that I don't know how to make coffee."

"Tea's fine," Wilson didn't really care.

Gordon got up and made the tea in silence. He brought a mug to Wilson: "It is rather sweet," Gordon said apologetically. "But you need the energy. Shock and all that you know."

"What shock?" Wilson asked though he accepted the drink. He had to use both his hands to hold the mug.

"I don't think you expected to open up to me quite as extensively as you did," Gordon replied. "And I'm fairly sure half the things you told me came right from your subconscious. You didn't know those were your feelings until they just poured out of you."

"I suppose," Wilson had to admit as he thought about all the things he had said. "I don't know what came over me. I… I don't really think all that."

"Yes you do," Gordon maintained as he sat back down with his mug of tea. "Of course, that does not mean you want to feel them or that you think they are entirely rational. But you do think them."

"So now you know," Wilson shrugged. "What are you going to do?"

"Help you find out why you're so stupid," Gordon said giving Wilson an innocent stare.

"What!" Wilson wasn't sure he had heard him right.

"Sorry, but needed to shock you a bit to get your attention," Gordon just smiled. "I don't actually think you're stupid but nor do I believe that what you just told me is the whole truth."

"Why not?" Wilson challenged him. "I do know that what I said was blunt but I wasn't lying."

"I never said you lied," Gordon explained. "But if all you ever got from House was grief, you would have left him a long time ago. We don't stay in relationships – be they friendships or whatever – if they don't give us some kind of gratification too. It may well be that the friendship between you and House is toxic, but there has to be some fairly powerful satisfaction in it as well or you would not be here still. Only your girlfriend's death was enough to make you even think that you need to put distance between you and House. Now I'm assuming that you're not a masochist, so tell me what it is that you do get out of the friendship?"

"Right now I have no idea," Wilson confessed. "I'm not even sure I ever had."

"Hmmm… Interesting," Gordon drank some tea. "We need to examine that in more detail. But you need to drink your tea before that. You'll need it"

Wilson eyed Gordon suspiciously but drank his tea.


	13. Chapter 13

_Thank_ _you again for reviews! They do brighten my day. And here's the next chapter. I'm trying to get this story finished this week, since I may be unable to use my computer for a week or possibly more from the beginning of September. So more chapters coming up this week!_

**Don't you know that you're toxic?**

"Biscuit?" Gordon offered as he pushed the plate of chocolate digestives he had brought to the table with the tea towards Wilson.

"I suppose," Wilson accepted. "You did say I need the energy."

"Indeed," Gordon confirmed. "I'm fairly sure you got a lot of adrenaline zigzagging through your veins after that outburst."

"Well my fingers are definitely tingling a little," Wilson shrugged.

"Want to yell some more to get rid of the excess?" Gordon offered.

"Thank you, but no," Wilson sighed. "It will pass."

"Ok," Gordon nodded. "So, what first made you want to be House's friend? What was it about him that made you want to know him better?"

"The first time I met him I was an attending," Wilson recollected. "The head of the department was an old despot who hadn't read a medical journal since 1970. He knew basic stuff well enough and was a good administrator and even greater politician. I was standing next to him one day when he was talking to a patient and his family and I knew for sure he was wrong in his diagnosis. I was wracking my brains in trying to figure out how to suggest one more test and not getting fired when House butted in. He heard what Old Yeller was saying and just dove in. He called my boss and idiot and diagnosed the patient on the spot, and correctly as it turned out…."

"_Do not listen to this young man," Wilson's boss had told the patient and his family. "He has just been fired."_

"_True," House had admitted without missing a beat. "But not for incompetence. I just hate seeing patients being screwed up by incompetent idiots, and since this hospital has more of those than doctors who know what they are doing and I'm not shy at pointing that out they don't want me here. But hey, you don't have to believe me you can ask Dr Wilson there. He is still young enough to care more about the patient than his bank balance." With that House had walked off, but before he left he winked at Wilson as if to say: There you go; I did the talking for you now you take care of the patient._

"I did go by his office later that day to thank him but he was already gone. He really had been fired on the spot," Wilson sighed. "It was about two years later I saw him again at a medical conference. Those days he was still willing to speak in public. He was suggesting that hospitals ought to put together diagnostic teams that could work on more difficult cases instead of leaving everything to one doctor at a time. I saw him in the bar and went over to tell him that he had been right about his diagnosis. He told me that he knew when he was right but thanks. Anyway we got talking properly, I'm not even sure why he chose to stay with me at the bar, but we found out that we actually have a very similar sense of humour. Also I think I impressed him by understanding most of his even somewhat obscure references. I certainly was impressed with his vast knowledge. He seems to know at least something about everything. I guess at first it was some kind of hero worship on my part. And I did believe that he had intervened because he really cared about the patient. I did find out later that he had just wanted to embarrass my boss. Mind you, I was in total agreement with that too. Of course I also found out that he likes to embarrass and shock people even when they don't really deserve it."

"Am I correct in assuming that part of his fascination for you was also the fact that he said all those things you would like to say to people yourself but can't because you are way too well mannered?" Gordon suggested.

"He does tend to cut right to the point with people," Wilson admitted. "And he does get things done. He is usually really acting in the best interest of the patient. He saves lives nobody else can save. That is, if anyone can save them. And he doesn't let social niceties get in the way."

"That sound almost like envy," Gordon pondered. "Do you think you wanted to be his friend because you were able to live vicariously through him? Because by being his friend you could almost imagine yourself taking part in his behaviour; could imagine that it was you who said all those rude things to the tiresome patient or obnoxious administrator? Or somehow share in the amazing diagnoses he comes up with?"

"I know that was part of it," Wilson confessed. "At first. And maybe a little even later."

"And of course friendship with him did help your career as well," Gordon went on.

"What do you mean?" Wilson asked sharply.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you that when you two started to work here in Princeton-Plainsborough Teaching Hospital and it became known that you and House were friends, doctors started to refer difficult cases to you because they assumed House had your back," Gordon stated blithely.

Wilson stared at him for a long moment blinking slowly as he processed the sentence. He ran the first couple of years through his mind. "And he always had. If at all possible," Wilson nodded.

"So being friends with him was in fact very rewarding at first," Gordon pointed out. "Both financially and emotionally. When did it change?"

"After the infarction," Wilson said without hesitation. "I was in a conference when all the hoopla took place so the deed was done when I got back. At first I tried to be there for both of them, Stacy and House – Stacy was his girlfriend. But then Stacy couldn't take it anymore and there was just me."

"And then he depended on you?" Gordon ventured.

"Not that he ever admitted it," Wilson recollected. "I just knew he needed me. He got better and he got back his independence but what few friends he had he pushed away. I was the only one who wouldn't be pushed. And Cuddy, but she was more doing her duty as a doctor then."

"So you chose to become his caretaker of sorts," Gordon considered. "How did that make you feel?"

"Well, it felt good at first," Wilson accepted a refill of tea and took another biscuit. "In fact it felt good for a long time. I knew I owed him for the help he had given me at the early stages of my career and I knew I could never repay it professionally. So it sort of felt just right that I could be there for him in his private life where he was rather inept. I liked being able to do things for him. But now that I look back it seems like I was doing more and more for him all the time and he just became even bigger influence in my life."

"Any examples come to mind from the early days?" Gordon invited.

"Not specifics but I remember that he started to come to my office when I was working, especially I remember those times when I had really difficult cases and was practically scraping the barrel to find some new drug or treatment or anything that could give the patient even some chance and he just barged in whining that he was hungry but didn't want to eat alone and I had to cook for him," Wilson could still feel the old irritation at having been interrupted. "He just wouldn't shut up or go away so eventually it was just easier to either go home with him and cook or at least go eat with him somewhere else. Mind you, half the time when we had eaten he told me of a new drug or a treatment he had read about in some journal or other or had heard about from someone and I should try that on my patient."

"Must have been irritating," Gordon noted with a glimmer of a smile in his eyes.

"It was at first," Wilson sighed. "But I got used to it. He had to have his food and he knew that if he told me first he wouldn't get any."

"Nor you," Gordon muttered under his breath before prompting Wilson on with his story: "And what about the other half?"

"The other half?" Wilson asked.

"You said half the time he gave you the answer you were looking for," Gordon reminded him. "What did he do the other half of the time?"

"He told me to let go," Wilson clearly hadn't liked those times. "He told me to put the patient in terminal care and move on, put my energy on patients I could help. That's when the ten bucks thing started, you know. He told me that if I could tell the patient that he was dying and there was nothing I could do about it in a way that made him thank me for the news he would pay me ten bucks."

"Really?" Gordon encouraged. "I'd have thought the mere suggestion would have angered you."

"It did," Wilson couldn't help but smile. "I yelled at him and just stormed out of his flat. But I had to admit that he was right about the patient; there was nothing I could do for him but to tell him that he was dying. I always hate doing that, but it is part of the job. I was furious at House still the next morning when I went to see the patient but for some reason when I was telling him the news I found new distance to the situation. I felt almost like I was standing aside from myself a little and I was assessing the patient's reactions and weighing different ways to respond and in the end he did thank me. I was still stunned when I went to see House and tell him about it…."

_Wilson had nearly stumbled into House's office and just collapsed in the chair there: "He thanked me!" he said still stunned. "I told him he was going to die and he thanked me!"_

_House hadn't said anything in response he had just taken his wallet out of his pocket and handed a ten dollar bill to Wilson. At first Wilson hadn't even understood what House was doing but he took the money. House didn't let go of it immediately, he waited until Wilson looked up first. Then he let go of the bill and put away his wallet._

"_It never gets easy," House had said. "It shouldn't even. But you learn to cope."_

"So he gave you a coping mechanism," Gordon concluded.

"Yeah," Wilson nodded. "I… I assumed it was his way of saying thanks."

"Thanks for what?" Gordon queried.

"For being there for him," Wilson shrugged a little uncertainly. "For the friendship. Something. Or maybe he was just saying that he cared about my wellbeing. Or that he was a friend. I'm not sure."

"You mentioned earlier that you've tried to teach him humility," Gordon suddenly inserted. "Why?"

"Why?" Wilson was thrown by the question.

"Yes, why," Gordon repeated. "Why do you think he needs lessons in humility?"

"I told him once that I was afraid he'd think he was god and his wings would melt," Wilson said with some defiance.

"It isn't god who limps," Gordon pointed out.

"He already told you about that?" Wilson was surprised.

"No, no he didn't," Gordon frowned puzzled. "What makes you think he did?"

"That's what he said too," Wilson explained. "God doesn't limp. That's what he said."

"But he had a point," Gordon asserted. "He lives in pain every day. Nothing you can do will teach him more about being just human than pain does. Besides, I don't believe you when you say that you want him to learn humility for his own good."

"Why else would I want it!" Wilson defended himself.

"Because you want to diminish him, bring him down a few pegs," Gordon replied calmly. "Because you want to show he is no better than you. Because it's not Gregory who sees himself as god but you; you wanted to worship him and when he didn't live up to your idea of a god you got angry and you want to expose his feet of clay. You resent him, have resented him for some time, and you want to bring him down and possibly kick him."

Wilson stared at Gordon mesmerised. He wanted to yell at Gordon and say that it wasn't anything like that. He was the one who had tried everything for this friendship. He was the one who had always been there for House. He was the one who had lost his loved one because of House. House was the destructive one, not him. He couldn't find the words.

"James," Gordon leaned closer to speak gently. "It's not just Gregory who is a toxic influence in this friendship."


	14. Chapter 14

**Like a needle needs a vein**

"I was right," Wilson glared at Gordon angrily. "You're following House's agenda here."

"Oh, yes, that was another function of his I forgot," Gordon remembered suddenly. "You like to use him as a scapegoat."

"I'm done with this," Wilson stated and got up. He pushed his chair away rebelliously. "Tell House to go screw himself."

"Well, obviously I can't keep you here against your will, and you really need to digest everything we have talked about so far," Gordon accepted. "Besides it's almost time for lunch. One does not live on tea and biscuits alone, does one?"

"Hah," Wilson responded and stalked out.

"Well, that didn't go down that well," Gordon observed as he got up too and headed towards the canteen.

He hoped he had been right about Wilson and he would be back. Surely he would be back. He didn't strike Gordon as the sort of man who would be happy to let anyone think badly of him. He would want an explanation and he would also want to explain. Of course, there was always the possibility that he had overplayed his hand. Gordon got his tray and was looking for a place to sit when he was hailed from a booth.

"Dr Wyatt," Chase invited. "Alone?"

"Yes," Gordon admitted. "We decided that it would be best for me to talk with Dr Wilson alone first so Gregory is doing clinic duty. And I fear I gave Dr Wilson indigestion."

"If House can't give him indigestion nobody can," Chase laughed. "Have a seat. Dr Cameron is busy in the ER so I'm alone, too."

"Thank you," Gordon accepted. "Most kind of you."

"So, you're here to fix House and Wilson's friendship," Chase opened the conversation.

"To help them do that if they want," Gordon corrected. "It's like the light bulb you know."

"Light bulb?" Chase repeated dimly.

"Yes, the old joke of how many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb," Gordon clarified.

"Of course," Chase had an illumination. "Only one, but it must really want it."

"Exactly," Gordon approved. "If either one or both of them don't want my help or don't want to fix things then I am powerless."

"I can't imagine either one of them not wanting to go on being friends," Chase mused. "Wilson may take some time to realise it, but they have been friends for so long that I can't see them throwing away all that history."

"People have divorces and they don't only throw away the history but often the children as well," Gordon said.

"Touché," Chase admitted succinctly.

"I'm sorry," Gordon stated. "I'm not here to dig up your issues but to work with Gregory and Dr Wilson. But you do seem to be rather… how should I put it… invested?"

"I care about House," Chase confessed. "I know my caring does not really matter to him, but I can't help it that he matters to me."

"You were his fellow for three years," Gordon considered. "How do you see him?"

Chase was quiet for a moment chewing his food. Then he said: "I don't."

"Ah, again my apologies," Gordon conceded. "He was your boss and still a valued colleague."

"No, I'm the one who is sorry," Chase remarked. "I didn't make myself clear. I wasn't refusing to answer. I just don't see House."

"In what way?" Gordon queried.

"I could tell you what he is like as a doctor but you know his reputation already," Chase explained. "But he hides behind that. I really don't know what he is like as a human being. I do have an idea, but I can't say if I'm right."

"Is it because he is that good at hiding or because you fear you are seeing what you expect or want to see?" Gordon was curious.

"Are you asking if I see him as a father-figure?" Chase wanted to know.

"I imagine you could have a few issues with parents," Gordon said. "It would be quite reasonable of you to consider the effect those issues may have on your judgement. It's actually good that you are aware of the possibility."

"I do sometimes wonder," Chase admitted. "But House himself makes it rather difficult to see him as a father-figure. I definitely see him as a mentor and a teacher. I also admire him – even as a human being, though sometimes even I wonder why and how. He has been good to me. All in all."

"All in all?" Gordon was good at detecting nuances.

"There have been times, especially at the beginning when … Actually, let's just forget it," Chase decided. "After all you're not here to work on my issues – even if they might be House-related."

"True," Gordon accepted. "I just need to curb my curiosity sometimes."

"In that case turnabout is fair play," Chase chose. "Dr Cuddy said that you used to know House in your teens."

"Yes, we happened to be in Japan at the same time," Gordon revealed. "He was about fourteen and I was about seventeen. Other than that, you have to ask him."

"Secrets?" Chase suggested.

"Things he prefers to keep to himself," Gordon stated. "But then, he likes to keep all things to himself if at all possible."

"True," Chase nodded. "He was once prying into my private life and I asked him how he would like it if I pried into his. He said he wouldn't like it at all and that was why he didn't have any. On the other hand, he also says that everybody lies."

"Not everybody," Gordon got a look in his eyes like he was remembering something from the past. "I used to know someone who always told the truth. At least the truth as he saw it. Of course, that did not mean he was also right, so he might have been telling a lie without knowing it. After all, people did say for centuries that the Earth is flat and it wasn't a lie since they truly believed it. But no matter how often they said it, it still wasn't true."

"You make it sound like he wasn't a very nice person," Chase ventured.

"I believe he was described to me originally as _perfectly pleasant_," Gordon recollected. "I didn't find him so, but then I didn't like him at all. Anyway, that was a long time ago and of no importance."

Before Chase could ask for more details or introduce a new subject they saw Wilson come towards their table. He stopped next to them: "Dr Wyatt…" he started hesitantly.

"Yes, Dr Wilson," Gordon prompted amicably.

"What you said…" Wilson was fidgeting. "Was that your professional judgement?"

"It was my professional observation," Gordon stated. "I don't do judgements. Not really. I'm… Now how could I explain this … Are you familiar with Rembrandt's painting called The Night Watch?"

"I've never seen it for real but yes, I know the painting," Wilson frowned.

"Well, the name is a misnomer," Gordon explained. "When they finally took it down for cleaning they found out that the company was actually leaving a somewhat shadowy courtyard to enter a sunlit street. The _night_ was just sooth and dust and grime accumulated over the years over the surface of the painting making it much darker than it was supposed to be. It wasn't until it was cleaned that everyone could see what the painting really was all about. That's what I do. I clean paintings so that you see what is in the dark corners and sometimes when the cleaning is done the picture changes drastically from what it was assumed to be."

"What you're saying is that you just help people see the whole picture as it is, nothing more," Wilson pondered.

"Yes," Gordon nodded. "And I also help people deal with the fact that the picture I reveal is very rarely a Rembrandt."

Wilson closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh. When he opened them he looked straight at Gordon: "I think we need to talk some more."

"Happy to, I have all day," Gordon responded. "Dr Chase, thank you for your company. And for the conversation. Though it's probably best that it was cut a little short."

"I'm not complaining," Chase smiled. "I expect I'll see you around for a few days?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Gordon replied as he got up and followed Wilson out of the canteen.

They walked back to the room Cuddy had assigned for them in silence and found seats opposite each other at the table.

"So you said that I was the one who ruined the friendship," Wilson challenged Gordon.

"No I didn't," Gordon denied. "I just pointed out that you had your share in the toxicity. Gregory is far from a saint and he has done his share of getting things out of balance, but he didn't do it alone."

"Are you trying to make me feel guilty over Amber's death?" Wilson asked.

"Do I need to?" Gordon countered. "Aren't you already blaming yourself? If only you hadn't been friends with House! If only you had told House to back off! If only you hadn't always been there for him every time he got drunk and therefore _trained_ him to call you! If only you had been home! I'm not sure I can even come up with all the _if onlys_ you must have gone through in your mind. And that's just for your part of it. There is a whole host of other _if onlys_ both for Gregory and Amber herself. If only House hadn't called. If only Amber had decided to leave him to his own devices. If only he had accepted the ride from her. If only she hadn't got on the bus but just followed it in her car. You must be going half out of your mind with all that."

"Yes," Wilson admitted blandly.

"I know it will take time for you to accept," Gordon told him. "But in time you will accept that it truly was just an accident and her death was the result of some unfortunate circumstances coming together at the wrong time. Nobody did anything on purpose; everybody behaved like normal human beings normally behave every day all over the world. And most of the time nothing bad happens."

"And that my grief is a cliché?" Wilson managed to insert some humour into his voice.

"That too," Gordon nodded. "But before you can accept all that we need to make sure you have nothing else to regret. As Dr Chase said to me, you and Gregory have been friends for such a long time, it would be a shame to just throw away that history. You need at least some closure even if you can't fix the friendship. If you don't realise what went wrong you are quite likely to repeat your mistake in a new relationship. I'm sure you have experience of that with your marriages."

"I'm not likely to run into anyone like House any time soon," Wilson tried to point out.

"No," Gordon admitted. "You're not likely to come across anyone like him soon. In fact the next person who takes advantage of you is probably a lot less scrupulous person than Gregory."

"House is probably the most unscrupulous person I have ever known!" Wilson exclaimed. "He has no morals at all!"

"Is that what you really think?" Gordon wondered. "What I knew of him and what I have heard about him since makes me think that he has an absolutely unbending moral code. Of course it is very different from what most people have and therefore quite hard to recognise. You usually don't even see it until you get hit in the face with it."

"I suppose," Wilson conceded. "It's just so difficult to think of him as someone with morals and ethics since most of the time he lies, manipulates, cheats and does whatever it takes to get what he needs. Of course it is usually for the patient."

"There you are," Gordon pointed out. "Isn't a doctor supposed to put his patient's needs first?"

"Ok, I concede," Wilson smiled weakly. "Dr Gregory House has morals and ethics, just not quite as we know them."

"Works for me," Gordon responded.

"Ok, now that we have that out of the way," Wilson wanted to know. "How does that help with determining who is the toxic influence in our relationship?"

"You both are," Gordon stated. "Normal people – and I use the word normal here very loosely to mean anyone who isn't actually suffering from delusions, paranoia, personality disorder or something similar – so normal people don't screw relationships alone. Be it a marriage or a friendship or any other relationship between equals it takes two to get it off the tracks. You and Gregory have drifted into an unhealthy co-dependency where you enable each other in your worst behaviours."

"What do you mean we enable each other?" Wilson frowned. "I know I enable his addictions and I wish I had stopped in time, but how does he enable me?"

"Well, to put it simply," Gordon sighed. "You need need. You define yourself, your worth by the number of people who need you and by the magnitude of their need. Gregory enables your addiction as much as you enable his addictions. It's even possible that your addiction is stronger than his."


	15. Chapter 15

_Thank you all for your reviews. As a reward here is the next chapter!_

**I have lost my only friend. Now it seems I have to start again**

"That's insane," Wilson mumbled. "I don't need to be needed. I mean not more than any normal person does. Sure, it's nice to be able to do something for the person you love or care for and it does give you a feeling of purpose when you're the one they need for something. But to need needing… No way."

"Are you quite sure?" Gordon asked.

"Yes!" Wilson insisted. "That was one of the things that went wrong in my marriages. Too much need."

"Yours or your wives'?" Gordon wanted to know.

"Theirs!" Wilson nearly snapped at him. "At first it was ok; when we met they were in a bad place and needed someone to take care of them help them to get over it. But then we married and I was just supposed to go on taking care of them and…"

"And you grew to resent them," Gordon recognized. "So you were attracted to them when they were needy, you appointed yourself as the one to meet that need and when the acute need was over you had already created a pattern where you gave and they just received and you ended up resenting that. That rather sounds like Gregory was also one of your wives!"

"No, we never… no," Wilson looked almost alarmed.

"I was not implying anything sexual," Gordon was amused. "Though even if you were gay I would be ok, as I believe is said around here. No the hospital gossip has made it quite clear that you date women – a lot of them; and House has two hands and a hooker service on speed dial. But just because there is no sex does not mean the rest of the relationship doesn't follow the same pattern as your marriages did. And _need_ was the operative word in them."

"But not my need," Wilson tried to explain.

"No?" Gordon was rather sceptical. "I think you really need to cogitate on your actions and motivations from the time House had his infarction onwards. You made yourself necessary to him, possibly preventing him from finding other people to help or to connect with."

"That sounds…" Wilson looked disgusted. "I'm not the manipulator!"

"Not alone, I agree," Gordon conceded. "And I'm pretty sure whatever your reasons for your actions were they were many and quite complicated too. Besides, I'm not saying you did anything alone. You can't be an enabler without an enableé or vice versa. House did his share as well. He definitely took advantage of your willingness to serve him hand and foot. But that is the nature of the beast: we tend to do the minimum we must to get the maximum we want or need. The more you gave the more he took. But also you giving him everything he needed encouraged him to stay with you. Made him unwilling to leave you. But it worked the other way too. He tied you to him the same way you tied him to you. For a long time there was a balance, but then something tipped the scales and the relationship didn't work anymore. It became toxic. And that toxicity did contribute to the conditions that eventually killed your girlfriend. Do remember I am still saying it was just an accident. Too many things needed to happen together, too many choices by different people needed to be made for it to be anything but an accident. But you and House still need to deal with those parts that were your contributions."

"But you're still saying that we should stay friends?" Wilson sounded incredulous.

"No," Gordon denied. "I can't say that because that is up to you two. All I'm saying that before you make any decisions about it you need to know what happened to it and if there is anything there that can be saved in one form or another. You need to know your history or you will repeat the same mistakes all over again. I would have thought that was the most important lesson Amber Volakis taught you."

"I need to think about this," Wilson was shaking his head but not in disbelief. "This is too much for me to digest at one go."

"Of course," Gordon agreed. "You're a doctor, you can do most of the analysing yourself once you know what you need to analyse and once you decide you have the courage to do it."

"What about House?" Wilson wanted to know.

"House is his own problem," Gordon stated. "You need to think about yourself now and of your own part in all this. House is not your concern."

"I don't know if I can stop worrying about him," Wilson sighed. "I feel that part of me hates him and wants to hurt him, but the other part fears that he will give up, will let the misery win if I'm not there to drag him out of it."

"I assume that is your way of saying that you fear he is suicidal?" Gordon asked.

"Yeah, I suppose," Wilson nodded.

"His life is his own responsibility," Gordon insisted. "You cannot be his keeper. If he decides to kill himself he will do it no matter where you are. But to set your mind at ease I have not seen any signs of that right now."

"What if you're wrong?" Wilson challenged.

"Then it's on my head," Gordon pointed out.

"He saved your life!" Wilson accused.

"True," Gordon admitted. "But I'm not infallible. Nobody is. And if my mistake cost the life of a friend I would have to live with it. I wouldn't like it, but I would have to put it past me or my patients would suffer."

"If you're trying to make me understand House and forgive him for his coldness, forget it," Wilson glared at Gordon angrily.

"No, I'm just reminding you of some facts of life," Gordon smiled. "Especially if you're a doctor. You know already that no matter how attached you are to your patients you cannot let their death incapacitate you or you end up killing your next patient too. As for Gregory being cold – well he didn't do feelings when he was fourteen, I don't think that has changed. Or has it?"

"Not so that I'd notice," Wilson sighed. "But what makes you think he hasn't changed in thirty years?"

"People don't really change," Gordon shrugged. "They can learn new behaviours, they can change their thinking but the core personality is set at rather an early age. All _change_ after that is determined by that core and happens according to the parameters that core dictates. I'm not saying that Gregory hasn't changed at all or that I can predict all the change based on what I knew of him, but some things… some things are almost inevitable."

"What is it that you know about House that I don't?" Wilson asked.

"Since I don't know what it is that you know of him, I really can't say," Gordon replied. "However, you wanted time to think so I believe we better wrap this up for today. I would like you to accompany me to Gregory's office, though, since there is something I want to say to both of you. Is that alright with you?"

"You don't mean to go on with the _couples counselling_, are you?" Wilson demanded.

"No, no," Gordon reassured him. "I just want to say something to you both. Just to give you both some advice that I think you need right now."

"Ok then," Wilson agreed. "I'll come with you."

"Excellent," Gordon approved.

They walked to House's office in silence rather surprising House when they walked in.

"Are we ready to continue the counselling this soon?" House queried.

"No, I'm afraid not," Gordon answered. "In fact we need more time for separate counselling."

"So what is it you wanted to say to us?" Wilson prompted.

"I think you two should not meet at all or even talk to each other for a couple of weeks," Gordon stated.

"How are we going to fix things between us if we can't even talk to each other?" House demanded.

"Right now talking to each other is not going to help anything," Gordon stated. "Wilson here needs distance and he should have it. You both need time to reflect alone on the things that have led to this situation between you two. I will be in touch with both of you but right now you cannot help each other. You need to keep your distance and do your own thinking."

"And what are those things we're supposed to think about?" House wondered.

"What I need to think about is none of your business right now," Wilson decided. "Gordon can give you your own things."

"And I fully intend to," Gordon confirmed. "But is it agreed? You leave each other in peace for a couple of weeks?"

"Is this really what you believe is the best course of action?" House wanted to know.

"Yes," Gordon nodded. "In my professional opinion this is what you both need."

"Ok," House accepted. "Since I agreed to be counselled by you I suppose I'll just have to take your recommendation."

"You're really going to leave me in peace for two weeks?" Wilson was sceptical.

"I promise not to come to see you, not to call you, not to email you or try to contact you in any other way," House gave a beleaguered sigh. "Happy?"

"No, not happy, but satisfied," Wilson said. "You do keep your promises. Or at least you have kept them so far."

"And I will keep it this time too," House promised.

"Ok," Wilson nodded. "So if that was all?"

"Yes, that was all, thank you Dr Wilson," Gordon confirmed.

"Right," Wilson grunted. "I'll see you in two weeks or so House. Dr Wyatt, you I will probably see sooner?"

"Yes, I have your phone number so I will call you to set the appointments," Gordon declared.

"Fine, I'll leave you to your talk then," Wilson turned on his heels and left.

"So are we going to talk?" House almost challenged Gordon.

"You don't seem to be in a very willing mood, Gregory," Gordon smiled.

"What is there to talk about?" House asked.

"If you want to fix a friendship you need to know what is wrong with it," Gordon pointed out. "Or if it even can be fixed anymore."

"If Wilson wants to fix it, it can be fixed," House shrugged.

"You're putting the burden solely on him?" Gordon asked.

"It is all on him," House stated. "I'm not going to change. I am what I am. I can make all sorts of promises of not taking advantage of him, not to lend money from him, not to eat his food, not to get him mixed up in my messes. But I will not keep those promises. Mind you, I really never have gotten him mixed up in my messes; he has always walked straight into them without any help from me."

"Friends tend to want to help friends, you know," Gordon reminded him.

"Even friends need to have some sense of self preservation," House scoffed.

"You didn't," Gordon said.

"I have a very healthy sense of self preservation," House insisted.

"Now that was an outright lie," Gordon laughed.

"Everybody lies," House shrugged. "But I still maintain I haven't got myself into his messes ever."

"No, not his messes," Gordon accepted. "However you did risk your life to find out what was wrong with Amber."

"Guilt," House muttered.

"Couldn't have been," Gordon denied. "You did not know you were the reason she was in that bus until after the brain stimulation."

"My subconscious knew," House stated.

"Possibly," Gordon entertained the idea. "But I doubt it."

"Fine, have it your way," House rolled his eyes. "That does not change that fact that I'm not going to change. I won't start doing anything different in my friendship with Wilson unless he starts to behave differently. I'm happy as I am. He is the one who needs to stand up for himself and set up some boundaries for me."

"Oddly enough, I agree." Gordon granted.

"Good. Glad we had this talk," House showed the door to Gordon verbally.

"I'm going," Gordon laughed. "But I will be back."

"With Wilson, I presume," House didn't want to give an impression that he was willing to open up to Gordon alone.

"Apparently," Gordon sighed. He knew a stone wall when he saw one.


	16. Chapter 16

_Again thank you for the reviews. I hope you like this next chapter, too!_

**With a garland of freshly cut tears?**

House had been perfectly satisfied when Gordon had implied that he would leave House alone until they could start the _couples counselling_ again. But that was before he begun to trip over Gordon at every corner. The man seemed to have made PPTH his permanent residence for the past couple of days! He wasn't trying to talk to House, not at all. He was perfectly happy to exchange a few words with him whenever they met, but most of the time he seemed to be talking to other people: Chase, Cameron, Foreman and Cuddy were in his company more than once. House wondered what that was all about until he found Gordon in the diagnostics room talking to his new team. Then he decided it was time to find out what Gordon Gordon Wyatt was up to – because he was definitely up to something.

"Gordon," House called from the connecting door between his office and the diagnostics room. "Could I have a word?"

"Certainly!" Gordon agreed affably and ambled into House's office.

"Why are you talking with my team?" House asked suspiciously. "I know you're not here to meet with Wilson since he isn't here. I can't imagine that you're just killing time loitering around and if you're lecturing or doing something else like that then the psychiatric faculty would be where you'd spend your time. Has Cuddy asked you to do evaluations of my team or something?"

"Oh no," Gordon revealed. "My assignment from Dr Cuddy is the same still; I am to help you and Dr Wilson patch up your friendship if at all possible."

"Then why aren't you doing that?" House demanded.

"I am," Gordon insisted.

"But Wilson's not here," House pointed out.

"But you are," Gordon implied.

"You know we have nothing to talk about without Wilson," House frowned. "Unless you want to just shoot breeze, that is."

"I disagree," Gordon regretted. "I have heard and examined Dr Wilson's side of things, but before I can effectively help I need to know more about your side as well. You, however, refuse to talk so I need to find other methods to get what I want."

"You've been talking about me!" House exclaimed. "All these meetings you've had with Cuddy and my former team and now my new team have been fishing expeditions about me!"

"Of course," Gordon stated. "Surely you knew you would be the topic?"

"Why would I be?" House huffed. "Most people love to talk about themselves!"

"But most people also love to gossip," Gordon reminded House.

"Damn," House muttered. "Is this going to be it then? If I don't talk to you, you get your information second hand?"

"If I must," Gordon nodded. "Not an ideal situation I admit since the information is bound to be filtered, but what can I do?"

"Ok," House figuratively threw his hands in the air. "You win. I'll talk. Just stay away from my teams and Cuddy."

"Drs Chase and Cameron are no longer _your team_," Gordon pointed out. "You don't really have any control over them."

"Wanna bet," House challenged.

"Tempting," Gordon admitted. "But that would be unfair since Dr Cuddy has already asked them to help me any way they can."

"And Cameron was more than happy to comply," House groused.

"Actually, Dr Chase was much more helpful," Gordon revealed. "He has fine observational skills he has."

"Ok, you've made your point," House snapped. "I already agreed to talk, what more do you want: blood?"

"Tears," Gordon said calmly.

"What?" House stared at him in shock. "I… I don't do tears."

"I know," Gordon accepted. "Don't be so literal. I'm not really expecting you to cry but I do want your feelings."

"I left them in my other trousers," House muttered.

"Too bad," Gordon smiled. "I'm not letting go of you now that I got you pinned."

"So what is it that I'm supposed to feel?" House wanted to know.

"Now there you go again," Gordon admonished him. "Being obstructive. You know perfectly well I'm not going to tell you what you're supposed to feel. That is not how psychiatry works."

"In my experience psychiatry is a load of mumbo jumbo that doesn't work," House stated.

"Except for the psychiatrist," Gordon pointed out. "For us, it works very well. Very lucratively in fact."

"Charlatan," House accused him.

"Oh, you wound me," Gordon laughed. "Now could we get serious perhaps? Because all you're doing is postponing the inevitable."

"You were always a persistent bugger," House sighed. "Can we go for a walk?"

"If that makes it easier for you, sure!" Gordon promised.

"Ok, let's go then," House said and led the way.

They walked into a nearby jogging park and settled at a table by the water.

"You come here often?" Gordon asked as he took in the surroundings.

"Yeah," House shrugged. "I like to watch the joggers and imagine them breaking a leg."

"What fun," Gordon smiled.

"Ok, so what is it you want to talk about?" House turned to Gordon.

"I suppose the most important question is how do you feel about her death?" Gordon mused. He didn't need to elaborate who _her_ was. "Wilson seems to be under the impression that you don't care."

"Well, I obviously didn't know her well enough to grieve her," House answered. "But I am sorry. I do wish I had done something differently or somehow been able to save her, and not only because of the effect that had on Wilson. I do feel responsibility for my part of the circumstances that contributed to her death but I don't think I killed her. I don't feel guilty anymore. Not over her death, just for having been part of the reason why she was on the bus."

"Part of the reason?" Gordon wanted clarification.

"She made her own decisions," House said. "I didn't force her into the bus. In fact I didn't even want her there. But I don't think she should be blamed either for trying to be nice and help Wilson's friend."

"Well, I do agree with your assessment of the situation," Gordon agreed. "But do you understand that Wilson isn't anywhere near there yet?"

"He may never be," House shrugged. "I'm ok with that, as long as he accepts that it really was an accident and I didn't have any intention or wish to harm Amber."

"He will probably get there, just how soon, I can't say," Gordon pondered. "But he will want to know that you are at least saddened by her death."

"I don't do tears," House sighed.

"And well I know that," Gordon sighed. "I don't think he really expects you to cry but he does expect to see some indication of sincere sorrow from you."

"He's such a girl," House grunted.

"And that was your father," Gordon observed earning a startled look from House. "You're surprised? Surely you have realised by now how strong his influence is."

"I thought I had shed him already," House frowned.

"I'm sure you no longer let him influence you consciously," Gordon agreed. "You don't do things to get his approval or disapproval as such anymore, but he has imbedded himself to some of your behaviour and thought patterns and he still influences you through those. Of course those patterns work for you or else you would have replaced them."

"Do we need to go there?" House gave a short glare from under his brows.

"Your father?" Gordon elucidated. "No, not if you don't want to and you never do, do you?"

"No," House stated shortly. "But aren't you supposed to what… encourage me?"

"I wish you'd talk about it, I wish you'd let me help," Gordon sighed. "But you don't so there is no point. And I don't think Wilson necessarily needs to know why you are what you are so I can let it be."

"So what does Wilson need from me, in your opinion?" House queried.

"He needs you to change," Gordon stated. "Not your personality, obviously, since that is impossible but you cannot leave the burden of fixing things to him. You both need to maintain the boundaries in this friendship."

"I'm perfectly happy with my boundaries," House insisted.

"You don't have boundaries, Gregory," Gordon laughed. "You have the Great Wall of China protecting yourself. Wilson is not as accomplished at self-protection as you are."

"You can teach him to set boundaries," House suggested.

"I can and I will," Gordon nodded. "But you still need to help him, if you want to save your friendship. That is if I can help you save it this time at all – that isn't sure yet. You can't let things slide back to where they were because it cannot be repaired a second time. Of that I am quite sure."

"So you're telling me that I should set the boundaries for Wilson?" House demanded.

"No," Gordon stated. "You and Wilson need to build the fences together and you need to maintain them together. It's like those stone fences you find in England, you know the ones that were built centuries ago by just piling stones without mortar or any other binding ingredient. To maintain them they need to be walked at least once a year."

"Walked?" House asked.

"Yes, one man on each side of the fence," Gordon said. "All stones that have moved need to be pushed in place but you can't do it from just one side, there needs to be someone on the other side making sure that the stone that is pushed doesn't displace another stone on the other side. Good neighbours keep good fences, and good fences keep good neighbours. That's what you two need to do. Build a fence and make sure that if one of you tries to push it wrong the other one is there to stop it. You can't leave it all to Wilson anymore. He isn't strong enough. Nobody is."

"I hear you," House admitted. "I'm just not sure I can do it. We used to be ok, but then something started to change. He wanted to change me, but not the way you just suggested. He didn't set boundaries around himself he tried to break mine. I don't think I reacted to well to that."

"That's why you need to talk," Gordon pointed out. "If either one of you decides to change things of their own bat, it's bound to go wrong. The first time it happened though, you should have said or done something. That is when you ought to have talked. It was a clear sign that something in your friendship didn't work for Wilson but you both chose to close your eyes to the signs and just try to go on as before. That's when things started to turn toxic."

"So we need to change things," House agreed. "I'm not sure I can change."

"I know you hate change," Gordon said. "But you do know how to adjust, you've done it often enough in your life. Unwillingness is not same as inability. And you don't really need to change yourself just replace some bad behaviours with better ones. If Wilson's friendship means enough to you you will do it."

"He will still get himself into my messes," House sated.

"Probably," Gordon nodded. "But hopefully I can teach him to at least choose which messes to get into. Just like I will help you learn those new behaviours."

"Funny, but I don't think you were a glutton for punishment at seventeen," House reflected.

"I wasn't," Gordon accepted. "Nor am I now. But this will be interesting."

"Does this mean I need to _talk_ with you more?" House didn't look happy.

"Oh absolutely," Gordon's smile bordered on the gleeful. "This will be fun."

"Not even close," House despaired.


	17. Chapter 17

_Thank you for all the reviews. This is the final chapter of this story and I will be quite curious to find out how close (in spirit, since Gordon will not be making an appearance in the show) my version was to what will really happen in S5!_

**Now I've heard there was a secret chord**

"Gordon!" Cuddy caught up with Gordon in the corridor outside House's office. It was about a week after House had finally accepted his fate and was talking with Gordon. "How is it going?"

"Fine," Gordon nodded. "Going is slow with Gregory but I think these conversations I have had with him have been fruitful."

"Is he still being difficult?" Cuddy asked.

"Are you on a fishing expedition?" Gordon countered. "I already told you once that the talks are confidential."

"I… I was just wondering if you need more help in managing him," Cuddy insisted.

"No, thank you," Gordon responded. "Everything is under control."

"Does that mean that you can help them?" Cuddy couldn't quite hide her anxiety.

"You really are worried about them," Gordon observed. "And not just as doctors in your hospital."

"They are my friends too," Cuddy stated. "And they have been best friends for a very long time. No matter what they say I don't think either one of them knows what to do, how to go on without the other."

"Change is inevitable in life," Gordon pointed out. "People do adjust. Maybe not happily, but they do adjust."

"Are you preparing me for the possibility that I will lose them?" Cuddy wanted to know.

"If they fail to repair their friendship, surely that does not mean they won't be friends with you," Gordon suggested. "Does it?"

"I don't know," Cuddy sighed. "Stacy has stayed in touch with both me and Wilson, but just barely. I want more."

"We always do," Gordon agreed. "That is human nature. But we will make do. However, I can tell you that I am very hopeful."

"You can fix them?" Cuddy asked eagerly.

"You know," Gordon laughed. "That almost sounded like you were talking to a vet about two mongrels."

"Aren't I?" Cuddy gave a deep sigh.

"Maybe," Gordon conceded. "And I believe I can help them fix their friendship."

"Wonderful," Cuddy smiled. "That really is good news."

"Are you sure you don't want to have a few sessions with me yourself?" Gordon ventured. "Your life really does revolve too much around this hospital and if those two doctors are your closest friends…"

"Don't you rather have your hands full with them?" Cuddy wondered. "They're not the easiest people I know."

"Oh you underestimate my powers," Gordon claimed modestly (!). "Besides, they are not quite as difficult as they would like to be."

"That was a strange thing to say," Cuddy frowned.

"Neither one of them likes to be easy to read," Gordon clarified. "But to a keen eye and an intelligent mind they are not that different from anyone else. Besides, they are both rather vulnerable right now so their guards are down. And that is actually what makes me think that they can save their friendship. Also it means that I do not have my hands full with them."

"Well, I do," Cuddy sighed. "House may be behaving with you, but with his patients he is still the same Denise the Menace as before."

"All the more reason for you to find ways of coping," Gordon pointed out.

"Maybe," Cuddy admitted. "I'll think about it."

Before Gordon could try to persuade her more, Chase approached them. He lifted his hand and showed a memory stick to Gordon.

"Got it," Chase told Gordon.

"Excellent," Gordon approved. "Is it complete?"

"Yes," Chase nodded. "I'm pretty sure it's the finished version. Just transfer it to an MP3 player and hit play."

"Good," Gordon smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Chase responded. "Serves him right too."

"Serves who right?" Cuddy was full of suspicions. "What is going on here?"

"Oh I think this is one of those times when the less you know the better," Gordon explained. "Just trust me; this is for the good of my clients."

"Now where have I heard those words before," Cuddy glared.

"They do occasionally resemble each other," Chase agreed. "It's really not hard to believe they've known each other as teenagers. But he's right, you're better off not knowing."

"You promise me it has nothing to do with my hospital?" Cuddy wanted to be sure.

"I promise," Chase stated. "I was just helping Gordon with House and Wilson as you asked."

"Ok, then," Cuddy accepted. "You'll tell me if it helped, won't you Gordon?"

"Yes," Gordon said simply. "Now we better disperse before Gregory comes out of his office and starts asking questions." With that he made his way to the lifts.

_Cased in amber Cased in amber_

The next day Gordon had a meeting with Wilson. They had covered a lot of ground and found reasons why need was so attractive to him. They had made progress but there was still one stumbling block in the way. Wilson didn't believe that House really understood what Amber had meant to him.

"I know he is sorry," Wilson stated. "But it's because he doesn't want to lose our friendship. It's not really over Amber."

"Why are you so sure of that?" Gordon asked. "You know he did everything he could to try and save her. Why would he not be affected by her death? Just because he doesn't show it? He never shows his feelings. That does not mean he doesn't have them."

"In fact, I don't know why I don't believe it," Wilson confessed. "Maybe I can't because it would mean that I should forgive him and I'm not ready yet."

"Just because you accept that he is saddened by Amber's death," Gordon said. "Does not mean you have to forgive him now. You know you will eventually forgive him; you have to if you want to go on with your own life. And your also know that forgiving him does not automatically mean you can go on being his friend. So there really is no reason why you couldn't accept that he has feelings."

"But if he has feelings," Wilson mused. "Then I'm hurting him right now."

"Wasn't that what you wanted?" Gordon enquired.

"Part of me did – does, yes," Wilson admitted. "But mostly it just makes me feel guilty."

"Yes, hurting him knowingly and on purpose does rather mess up your self-image as a nice guy," Gordon agreed sagely.

"You don't think I am nice, do you?" Wilson suspected.

"No," Gordon stated. "But then I don't know anyone who really is. We all have our nice moments and people we try to be nice to, but nobody is just _nice_. It's just not in the human nature."

"So you expect me to just forgive House now?" Wilson sighed.

"Not necessarily right now," Gordon said. "As I said, eventually you will, but only when you're ready. Right now I just expect you to accept that he does have feelings. And I may have something to help you with that."

Gordon took an MP3 player out of his pocket and attached it to the sound system Wilson had. "Little mood music," he explained as he set it to play. Wilson was puzzled at the haunting sound of a violin playing something sad and poignant he had never heard before.

"Who is that?" Wilson asked. "And what is the piece?"

"It's Dr Chase," Gordon revealed. "I found out, almost by accident, that he is quite an accomplished violinist."

"It's beautiful," Wilson agreed. "But what is he playing?"

"A little composition he stole, on my instigation, from Gregory," Gordon answered nonchalantly. "It's called Lacrima Heliandum."

"Tears of Helios?" Wilson translated quietly – he didn't want to miss a note of the beautiful piece.

"Hmm," Gordon murmured. "Or if you want an accurate translation it means Amber."

Wilson's eyes went wide and he stared at Gordon almost in shock.

_Cased in amber Cased in amber_

Forty days had passed since Amber's funeral and it was the closest Sunday. House couldn't believe that he was really going to attend the memorial mass or whatever it was the Greek Orthodox called the service. But here he was, standing at the back of the church and listening to the service. He had been in two minds about it to the very last minute but he owed it to Amber, so he had made it to the church – the very last minute – and here he was. He could see that many other people were there too, Cuddy and Kutner he had rather expected to see, Chase and Cameron were there, Taub and Hadley seemed to be missing and there really was no reason why they should have been there anyway. And naturally Wilson was there. Gordon had said that he wanted to start the _couples counselling_ the following week, so House assumed that Wilson was more or less ok now, but that did not necessarily mean that they could heal their friendship. Observing other people's boundaries hadn't been House's strong suit for a very long time.

The service wasn't very long, thankfully since his leg was starting to act up a little again. He quickly took a Vicodin and waited for it to kick in. Time to limp to the bike; no point in standing around any longer than necessary. He made his way outside and to the parking lot slowly but without any deliberate delay. Even so he had only just got on his bike when he heard Wilson's voice from behind him.

"I didn't think you'd attend," Wilson said quietly. "I didn't even know you knew of this service."

"I asked the priest to keep me informed," House replied as he turned to look at Wilson. "You look a bit better now."

"I feel a bit better now," Wilson agreed. "But still not that good."

"Give it time," House advised.

"Yeah," Wilson nodded. He stood there for a long moment in silence. House wasn't sure if he was supposed to just leave but decided to wait for Wilson's move.

"I bought a plant," Wilson suddenly stated.

"Good," House responded still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I also asked Cuddy to redecorate my office," Wilson went on. "I still need another month and I'm not sure I will be good for anything but administration and teaching for some time, but I have come to the realisation that leaving New Jersey, running away, is not going to solve anything."

"I'm glad," House said sincerely. "Is there…. Do you know what you need from me?"

"Not yet," Wilson sighed. "But I expect Gordon will help with that."

"Do you think he can?" House wanted to know. "Do you think we will be ok?"

"Yes, I think he can," Wilson seemed to make up his mind right there and then. "And I think we will be ok. Just not quite the same as before. We need some serious boundaries you know."

"I suppose," House agreed. He put his helmet on and started his bike. "Boundaries… Does that mean we need to respect each others' space and privacy and all that?"

"Yes it does," Wilson had to raise his voice to be heard over the sound of House's bike.

"Ok then," House yelled as he started to drive off. "I'll call off the PI and we'll have a meeting with Gordon next week."

"Good!" Wilson yelled back. And then the penny dropped: "WHAT PI!! HOUSE……."

The End.


End file.
